IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 '■- IIIIM IIIIM -- llilitt 11^ 2.0 1.8 1-4 111.6 % <^ n >^. ^f o 7 ///. Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y 14580 (716) 872-4503 L3T0C H<1 ' PREFACE. It was my good fortune during 1872-76 to accompany my father on a professional tour, singing the Songs of Scotland round the world. Ours was a family-party, consisting of my father, mother, two sisters, two brothers, "Cousin Tom" (busi- ness agent), and myself. We travelled minutely through the Colonies, visiting nearly every town and village in Australia, New Zealand, and Canada. From time to time, during a period of three years, I sent "Notes of our Colonial Travel" to the Edinburgh papers-the Daily Review and the North British Advertiser and Ladies^ Journal. These articles, with some alterations and many additions, are here reprinted. , DAVID KENNEDY, Junior. 8 St Andrew's Terrace, Newlngton, Edinburgh, October 1876. Hassan ■■• t I CONTENTS. CHAP. I. Arriving at Tort rhillip— Description of Melbourne, . IT. Ballarat — Down a Gold Mine— Geelong — A Hot-wind i^ay. ...... III. Sandluust—Echuca— Buying Coach and Horses— A Bush-Storm— Melbourne at Christmas, • iV. A Squatting-Station— A Drove of Kangaroos— The Bush and Bush-Roads— The Middle Diggings, . V. Overland from Melbourne to Sydney— A Bush Concert —Beechworth—" Camping Out "— Wagga Wagga — Funeral of an Explorer, .... VI. Sydney and Sydney Harbour, .... VII. Brisbane— The Wilds of Queensland— The Gympie Gold Field— The Queensland Blacks, \TII. Rockhampton— Station Life— Queensland Ports— The Darlings Downs— The Queensland Tin Mines, IX. The New England District— A Bush Inn— The Hunter River District— The Hill End Country— Bathurst, X. A Trip through Tasmania—IIobart Town— The Tale of a Convict — Launceston, XI. South Australia— Adelaide— A Feast of Grapes— A Plague of Mosquitoes— The Country Towns, XII. Voyage to New Zealand— Dunedin — Sunday in Dunedin— The Water of Leith— Christmas and New Year's Day, ..... XIII. A Tour through Otago—Tokomairiro— Gabriel's Gully — A Concert in a Barn — Invercargill — The High- lands of Otago, ..... XIV. Lake Wakatip— Queenstown— The Gold Towns of Otago — Gorge Scenery — Northern Otago, XV. Perilous Fording of the Waitaki— Crossing the Can- terbury Plains— The City of Christchurch— Port Lyttelton, ...... XVI. Wellington — The Hutt Valley — Cook's Straits- Nelson, ...... i'A(;k I l6 29 42 57 69 79 94 109 131 148 155 168 182 191 207 VUl Contents. CHAl'. PAGE XVII. Taranaki— Mount Egmont— The City of AuclJand— The Thames Gold Field — A Maori I )cbauch, . 223 XVIII. The Waikato Valley— Rangariri Battle-field— A Military Outpost — A Weary Horse-ride — A Night in a Maori House, ..... 243 XIX. The Volcanic Country — Bathing in a Hot Lake — A Maori Pah — The Great Geyser of Whaka-rewa- rewa, ...... 257 XX, Pierre's "Maison de Repos" — Rotomahana — The White Terrace — The Hot Springs — The Pink Terrace — A Dangerous Ilorsc-ride, . . 268 XXI. Lake Taupo — Tongariro, the Burning Mountain — Napier — Ilawke's Bay Province — A New Zealand Forest, . . ... . . 282 XXII. Crossing the Manawatu Gorge — A Maori Grievance — Wanganui — Winter in Otago — Leaving New Zealand, ...... 295 XXIII. A Flood in Melbourne — A Fancy Ball — The Australian Derby-day — The Ex-king of Fiji — A Terrible Storm — Voyage to Honolulu, . . . .310 XXIV. The Sandwich Islands — Honolulu — Tropical Scenery — The Kanakas, , . . . . 319 XXV. California — San Francisco— The City and the People — Oakland — San Jose — Sacramento, . . 328 XXVI. The Trans-Continental Railway— Salt Lake City— A Mormon Sermon — A Trance Lecturess— Chicago — Hotel Life in America, .... 342 XXVII. Crossing into Canada — The City of Toronto — Hamilton — Niagara Falls — Autumn in Ontario, . . 361 XXVIII. Winter Life in Ontario — Sleigh Journeys — Countrj' Hotels — The Canadian Farmer, . . . 370 XXIX. Country Churches in Ontario — Horse-racing in Winter — A Journey in a Snow Storm — Kingston — Ottawa, ...... 385 XXX. Montreal — The River St Lawrence — The Mountain — "Tobogganing" — The Ice-" Shove" — Quebec, . 394 \\ XXXI. The Maritime Provinces — New Brunswick — Nova ! Scotia, ..... . 407 XXXII, Newfoundland — St John's — The City and the Harbour — Cod Fishing — Sealing — The Scenery of New- foundland — Home Again, .... 425 • \ KENNEDY'S COLONIAL TRAVEL. CHAPTER I. ARRIVING AT PORT PHILLIP — DESCRIPTION OF MELBOURNE. About dawn on a Sunday in June 1872, we sighted Cape Otway, the mountainous promontory of the Victorian coast, after a protracted voyage of ninety-three days from Glasgow, in the cHpper ship " Ben Ledi." Our passage, though long, had not been more eventful than commonly befalls the Australian voyager. We caught the usual albatross, and killed the customary shark ; had the inevitable glimpse of dreamy Madeira, and crossed the Line with grog and ceremony ; had, as a matter of course, a quick run from the Cape of Good Hope, and latterly were doomed to the baffling winds that generally overtake a vessel when within sight of its long- expected destination. After leaving the timbered ranges of Cape Otway, which loomed sombrely through the morning mists, the land gradually lost its majesty, passing by easy transition from mountain to hill, and from hill to knoll, until near Port Phillip it degenerated into a decidedly pancakey coast, flat and uninteresting. Soon we were pleasantly surprised by the arrival of the pilot, a dapper, trim-whiskered man, who began his reign of office by ignoring the captain, and anathematising in a gentlemanly manner every block, pulley, and brace within the limits of the ship. With singular foresight, he had brought one newspaper with him, and we doubt if ever that journal was so popular before or since, or that so many persons ever tried to read off one copy as on that occasion. Becoming disgusted with the meagreness of the news, the popular voice turned on the pilot, who seemed to be bursting (as far as it might be thought fit and proper for him to burst) with some weighty communication, and I am happy A r Kennedy s Colonial Travel. to state that twelve wcll-balanrcd minds went to rest that night with the sublime consciousness of knowing the name of the horse that won the Derby. The Heads which form the entrance to Port PhilH]) liay are about two miles apart, though when approached from the sea the channel appears much narrower, owing to the jjoints of land considerably overla])i)ing each other. On the western shore stands the neat-looking township of Queenscliff, and principal j)iloting station of the bay, which we passed in the twilight, just as the great " rip " or inflowing tide swept along with the noise and rush of a distant avalanche, bearing the ship onwards at fully six knots an hour. As the current subsided into a gentle ripple, there came tolling over the water the Sabbath evening bell from the Queenscliff Church, which was answered by the hollow roar of the anchor-chain as we came to our moorings for the night in Port Phillip Pay. Early next morning, after a ceremonious visit from the health officer, we tacked up the bay against a strong head wind, mak- ing very slight progress, and exhausting what little patience we had remaining. As we proceeded towards Melbourne the scenery became more interesting, the eye being delighted with large plantations sloping down to the shore, and dotted with very desirable mansions, the country houses of the great city merchants and the budding aristocracy of Victoria. Half-way up the eastern shore rose a lofty and commanding bluff, clothed with gum-trees to the very summit, and bearing the name of Arthur's Seat, but with no resemblance to its Scottish namesake save in point of height ; while to the extreme westward appeared dimly the mountain of You Yangs, which stands near the shores of Corio Bay, and is distant a few miles from the town of Geelong. Towards evening we arrived near Hobson's Bay, where the pilot again determined to anchor out all night, much to the annoyance of all on board, to whom the twinkling lights on shore had a very tantalizing appearance. Early next morning, we were laboriously making headway against the gale which was still blowing in our teeth. On the right shore appeared the beautiful suburbs of Brighton and St Kilda, the favourite watering-places of the metropolis — a collection of elegant villas, graceful churches, and fine hotels ; while at the head of the bay stood Melbourne, its towers and spires showing but dimly through the great cloud of dust that overhung the city. On the left, easily distinguished by its shipping and busy stir, lay Melbourne. the the on irite lias, bay imly On lay the port of Williamstown, our desired haven, which we were not destined to reach, however, till late in the afternoon. The first person to come on board, regardless of Custom-house laws, was an enterprising but( her, who diligently sought the captain's ear for the privilege of serving the ship with meat while in jiort, and wlio, on the arrival of Her Majesty's officers up one side of the vessel, disappeared over the otlier with an agihty that besi)oke long jjractice. The deck soon swarmed with boatmen, hotel touters, luggage porters, and friends of the l)assengers, all in a state of l)ustle and excitement. An un- gentlemanly character departed with our luggage in one direc- tion, while our friends took us in another, the whole of us fall- ing latterly into the clutches of a /.e.ilous boatman, who was determined to have us at all hazards — the rest of the sailing craft, by a singular fatality, being very dangerous and untrustworthy as compared with his, which would take the whole party over to Sandridge for a sum at that moment too contemj)tible to be spoken of in the presence of gentlemen. After a short sail we landed ra this suburb one minute before the starting-time of the train to Melbourne. Being full of the traditions of the old country, we made a frantic dash, clearing the Customs in an unusual and unconstitutional manner, and arriving a minute past the time. The guard was authoritative and fuming, so we entered the train with meekness, and an exjiression of sorrow in our coat-tails. After sitting i)atiently for about five minutes, we look out and see, by the lamplight, the guard picking his teeth consecutively and holding a lively ictc-a-tcte with a female friend. We watch him, with an evil twinkle in our eye sugges- tive of a letter to the papers, and have just got the first sentence graphically constructed, when the train starts off, and we find ourselves in a very lumbering and boxy railway carriage, seem- ingly without any springs, which we are happy to quit when we reach the Melbourne station. But first impressions are, like printers' first proofs, not to be trusted, and liable to subsequent correction. We drove off from the station in an Albert car, a two-wheeled vehicle with glazed leather sides and top, and with a swinging jolt that is anything but pleasant to the unaccustomed — arriving at one of the principal hotels, a substantial building just like any similar establishment in the old country, with the usual blaze of light at the entrance, the same resplendent shirt-front and black suit ready to usher you in, and the ever-present street arab helping you to alight. 4 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. After disposing of a sumptuous meal — a combination of breakfast, dinner, and supper — we strolled out to have a moon- light peep at Melbourne, inaugurating our walk by purchasing at a fruit shop a magnificent pine-apple for sixpence. Bourke Street, the principal business thoroughfare of the city, was filled with a busy crowd of people promenading before gaily-lighted shops and gas-flaring stands — the housewife with her basket, intent on purchases ; the native Australian youth or " corn- stalk;" the Chinaman with his stereotyped face; lounging fellows with big beards and tall slouched hats ; Frenchman and German ; English, Scotch, and Irish — all blending in one common throng. Alter walking for about half-an-hour amid this lively scene, we turned into Collins Street, the afternoon promenade of the fashion and beauty of Melbourne, but found it almost deserted, the only persons visible being some stray individuals saunter- ing to their club, and bank clerks hurrying home after their day's business, the comparative silence of the street being occa- sionally broken by the sad notes of a wandering minstrel playing his flageolet before one of the fashionable hotels. Melbourne, viewed simply as a speedy aggregation of bricks, mortar, and population, is an astonishing city. Receiving, like San Francisco, its great vitality from the discovery of gold, it has sprung up, mushroom-like, within the memory of this generation. Melbourne has now a population, including the suburbs, of 200,000 — a fourth of the inhabitants of the colony of Victoria. The city rises on the north bank of the Yarra Yarra River. This little stream is sweet and sylvan in and about Melbourne ; but further down, between the city and the bay, its waters are laden with the noisome stinks of chemical works and tanneries. It has a very tortuous course, and takes eight miles to go from Melbourne to the bay, which, as the crow flies, is scarcely a third of that distance. Viewed from an eminence, the river bears a strong resemblance to a liquid cork-screw. The principal streets of the city are one mile long, 100 feet wide, and run at right angles to each other. Eliza- beth Street divides the city into east and west, and lies in the valley formed by the two hiils upon which Melbourne is situated. The drainage of the city is open, a stream of water running down each side of the street, with small wooden bridges at frequent intervals for the convenience of foot-passengers. Nearly every house, shop, and public building has its verandah, which slopes down over the pavement, and forms a grateful protection from the heavy rains in winter, and the scorching sun \ \ Melbourne. ;s at jers. ^iah, teful sun in summer. The sky-line of the streets is not generally of the most uniform nature ; and this is the first thing that strikes the stranger as at all peculiar. He finds spacious and lofty ware- houses standing side by side with one-storied workshops ; grand stone buildings hobnobbing with low wooden shanties ; and stately-looking churches in close proximity to timber yards, tinsmiths' shops, and small public-houses. All these incon- gruities, however, are fast disappearing, the temporary wooden buildings being weeded out by degrees, and substantial structures erected in their stead. Collins Street is the most regularly built of the thoroughfares of Melbourne. The west end of it contains the principal hotels, banks, and insurance offices ; the eastern portion being devoted to the residences of clergymen, doctors, and musical professors. At the intersection of Russel and Collins Streets stands the monument erected to Burke and WIUs, the famous explorers of the Australian continent. It consists of two large bronze figures of the travellers, mounted on a pedestal of the same material, round the base of which appear four bas-reliefs illus- trating the various episodes in the ill-fated expedition to the interior — an expedition which started from Melbourne in i860 with great eclat and flourish of trumpets, but which ended in the death of Burke and his companion amid the wilds of the desert. Near this monument is the Independent Church, a large showy building of variegated brick, with a massive spire and belfry. Over the way, in strong contrast to it, stood at this time the Presbyterian Church, a plain and unpretentious structure. It did not seem, however, to have exactly suited Presbyterian wants, as it has since been demolished, and a larger and more costly place of worship erected. The site is one of the finest in all Melbourne, and the lofty tapering si)ire forms a noble feature in the sky-line. Further down Collins Street is the new Town Hall, a stately edifice built in a mixed classical style, with a lofty tower on the south-western extremity, and two broad flights of steps leading up to the i)rincipal entrance. The great hall has a large seating cai)acity, and is most sumptuously decorated. A spacious balcony runs round the entire building, while over the commodious orchestra has been erected a huge and highly-ornamented organ. In Bourke Street are situated the principal markets and places of amusement. Here are the temples of the drama — the Theatre Royal and the Prince of VVales' Opera House. Here too is the Eastern Market, or " Paddy's Market," as it is € Kennedy s Colonial Travel. familiarly called, where are displayed fruits and flowers of every kind, and the finest possible vegetables. The cauliflowers of Melbourne, in size and flavour, are truly remarkable, and would open the eyes of a Cockney housewife. In Bourke Street the miscellaneous business of the city is transacted, with a strange jumble of nationalities, as shown by the business signs and placards over the doors and windows. Messrs Levi and Abraham will be hap])y to sell you all descriptions of cigars, pipes, and tobacco ; Sprachen and Herz can supply unlimited varieties of fancy goods and colonial-made jewellery ; Moosoo, Adolphu.i, & Co. possess an excellent stock of furniture and "French polish ;" and Ah Ching Ah AVing & Chum Foo have on hand a large assortment of tea, opium, and Chinese curio- sities. Bourke Street is also the centre of a line of omnibuses, which convey you to any part of the city for threepence. They are conducted on a very economic principle^ the driver having control over the back door by a long leather strap, and the pas- sengers poking their fare through a little hole in the front. These vehicles are supplemented by a multitude of omnibus cabs, plying at the same rates, and forming no inconsiderable item in the street traffic, which is principally made up of these conveyances and a miscellaneous collection of buggies, railway carts, produce vans, and country coaches. One must not forget, however, the irrepressible butcher boy, who rushes on horseback through this heavy stream of traffic with all the vagaries of a comet amidst the solar system, — the snorting steed dashing up tlie street with a life-and-death appearance, its eyes flashing and its tail streaming ; while all the interest involved is perhaps a paltry beefsteak or a solitary leg of mutton. The chief building in Bourke Street is the General Post- Office, which, though smaller and less ornamental than the Town Hall, is yet a conmiodious and imposing pile. Like the latter building, it is surmounted with a large tower, from which the progress of the English mail is signalled to the citizens every month by means of flags. The departure of the mail is always an ocf .?,sion of great excitement at the Post-Oftice. Half an houi ! H fore the closing time you see a stream of people trickling in with their letters, and leisurely depositing them in the large windows. At a quarter to ten there is a growing anxiety to jostle, while at five minutes to the hour there is a decided rush — office boys running with bundles of despatches, and anxious persons feverishly clutching their " home " letters. The cry Melbourne. rge to ish ous cry is " still they come," when Borne ! goes the first stroke of ten, and round the corner fly procrastinating individuals in cabs ; while many tumble nervously out of omnibuses, and rush to join the gathering throng. Bome ! the crowd ti tens up, the Stamp Office is besieged, and a maelstrom of packages is dis- charged into the bo?:. Bim, bome ! the portico is now crowded with people hustling, pushing, and squeezing in at all corners, frantically waving newspapers and bundles of letters, and work- ing themselves fiercely to the window, where some individuals have inextricably wedged themselves in. Bim, bome ! the last stroke of ten, and down goes the shutter with an unmistak- able bang. During our three months' stay in Melbourne, we frequently visited the Chinese quarter in Little Bourke Street, where the Celestials, with excusable clannishness, have gathered them- selves together. Their shops and houses form a large portion of this thoroughfare. The buildings are all after the European manner, but the interior bears strong evidences of Chinese occupation. At nearly every door you see "John" lounging and smoking with the listlessness characteristic of the race, or grinning feebly at you as you pass. Numbers of his country- men are lolling about inside, playing at the national lottery of "fan-tan," or holding a desultory conversation with a stray customer, who sips out of a small cup the tea invariably placed on the counter of all Chinese shops, but which being pure and unsweetened is not very palatable to the European. One cannot fail to observe the very diversified business done in the Chinese quarter; for among other buildings we can easily see the gambling saloon, with its group of avaricious speculators, and its windovvful of lucky and other papers ; the tea ware- house, crowded to the door with chests and boxes ; the opium shop, with its noxious drugs and vacant-eyed customers ; and the lottery shop, presided over by a priestly hoary-haired Chinaman — all these establishments doing an apparently good business. Now and then, however, the gambling haunts are invaded by the police, and at these times it is no uncommon thing to see a gang of handcuffed Chinamen, to the number of twenty or thirty, escorted by constables to the Police Court, where, amidst a crowd of sympathising friends, the Celestials pay their fines, or more frequently endure their imprisonments. The lower order of Chinamen gain a livelihood as pedlars or itinerant merchants, having their goods slung on both ends of a long bamboo, by means of which they are able to carry on their ^^5 8 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. shoulder great weights without much apparent exertion. They are invariably to be seen at the back-doors of houses, chatting with the servant-girls, and trying to dispose of their wares at a good profit. Many of them act as chiffonniers, and scrape a subsistence out of dust-heaps and rubbish — the Chinaman being proverbial for making a living where a European would starve. One evening we went to the Chinese theatre — a temporary exhibition, held in a booth erected at the head of Little Bourke Street. The tent was surrounded by a noisy crowd of street arabs and loafers, who were eaves-dropping through the rents of the canvas, and yelling out their general opinion of the per- formance. Paying our shilling we entered, and saw an audience of eighty or ninety Chinamen. We took our stand beside one of them, asking him to explain the " plot ; " but he declined the task, as he had left China when he was only " one moon old." The stage was like an inverted proscenium — the "foot-lights" being placed about twelve inches above the heads of the actors, who raised their faces towards the lamps when any strong emotion had to be exhibited. Behind the performers, at the back of the stage, sat the orchestra, numbering two, who played Celestial airs on a monotonous gong and a wearisome one- stringed fiddle. The entrance of any great character was the occasion of a furious burst of sound, which subsided when he commenced to speak, but was immediately resumed upon the conclusion of a sentence. No special scenery graced the stage, the dramatis persona appearing from behind two tapestried curtains. The drama was relieved by an incident assuredly not in the programme. A shower of missiles, thrown by the rabble outside, came flying through the roof of the tent, and alighted on the heads of an emperor and chief mandarin, who were instantly escorted from the stage amid the shrill jabbering of the audience, the play methodically proceeding as before. Imagine the effect upon an English audience of seeing their favourite Hamlet or popular Macbeth carried off at the wings dangerously wounded by bricks hurled in at the skylights ! During our journey through the city we came frequently into contact with the Melbourne cabmen, who are even more original and worthy o'' "ce than their brethren in the old country. Most of thei e waifs from the diggings, unsuccessful during the great alluvial rushes, or, if successful, at least unfortunate in not keeping a judicious hold of their savings. They have adopted this line of business as an instantaneous means of Melbourne. livelihood, and some have got the length of comparative inde- pendence, possessing their own horse and vehicle, with a few pounds to their credit at the bank. In outward appearance the Melbourne cabman is a respectable fellow. On entering his cab or Albert car, you are soon put at your ease, as he talks with you in a familiar and friendly manner that is quite assuring. "Ah! you admire them houses, do you, sir? — well, what would you think of seeing that ail trees, sir — all bush, nothing but tents — that's what I saw when I came out here twenty years ago this very month. I left the missus un' young folks at home, an' sailed for the diggings in '52 — yes, sir, an' I made some thousands of pounds up at Ballarat. I wouldn't like to tell you how much I made — indeed, I wouldn't. I took the gold out in bucketfuls — didn't sift the gold from the dirt ; that was too much trouble, sir. I took the dirt from the gold. Yes, I built a hotel up there, and the two rooms of it were crammed from week's end to week's end. My word ! the coin 1 put away then ! But I was a fool in those days, sir. I was too free, too generous, too open-hearted — spent all my earnings among my chums. I took to the drink, sir, bad ; an' the money went as fast as it came. Then I lost the run of my luck, an' had to sell out an' come down to Melbourne a cab-driving. You'll be wondering, sir, at seeing me holding the reins, but a chap's got to be humble in this world sometimes, you know. It's my own horse an' cab, sir ; all my own property ; but it don't make up for the good old times, the jolly old times. Get off at this corner, sir? — all right, sir — threepence, sir — good- day, sir." And away he goes in his Albert car, a vehicle which we shall recollect for some time by reason of an accident that occurred one evening while we were driving down Bourke Street. We had reached a very steep portion of the road, which was slippery owing to recent rains, when the horse, after a few preliminary stumbles, fell to the ground, the shafts flying into fragments and the front-seat passengers rolling out over the unfortunate animal \ while a number of lady-passengers had to be taken down by a ladder from the back part of the vehicle amidst the sympathies of the large crowd which had gathered round. One* of the greatest treats we enjoyed was in visiting the beautiful parks and reserves set apart for the benefit and re- creation of the citizens. The Botanical and Fitzroy Gardens are the two principal resorts, the former containing an extensive variety of tropical and British plants, growing side by side in r lO Kennedy s Colonial Travel. the open air ; and the latter, which costs the Clovernment ;^i2oo per year, laid out in beautiful walks, and ornamented with a large number of classical statues, that meet you unex- pectedly at every turn. The Treasury Gardens, occupying a beautiful slope at the back of the Government buildings, cost ;^500 annually, the original sum expended being ^^3000, which included the deposit of 10,000 loads of soil. There are also the Flagstaff, Horticultural, and Friendly Society's Gardens ; the Acclimatisation Society's Gardens, the South Park, and the Military Reserve — all distributed equally over the town, and open free to visitors daily. The grounds of the Mel- bourne Cemetery are also a favourite resort on Sunday afternoons, and are well worthy of a stranger's visit, if onl}- to see the Jewish and Chinese divisions, which are full of interest. The principal tombstone in the cemetery is that erected to Burke and Wills, — a striking contrast to their elegant monument in Collins Street, as it consists solely of an immense mass of uncut granite, symbolical of the great unfinished work of their lives. Melbourne is a city popularly supposed to be wholly given over to Wool and Gold. But material prosperity does not shut out a due recognition of the Arts and Sciences. There is a fine University, with a grant of ^^9000 every year from Government. There is also a Public Library in Swanston Street — a noble building containing 80,000 volumes. It consists of one long, spacious, and weli-lig'ited chamber surrounded by numerous recesses. You bit down, look over the catalogue, and then pick out your book from the surrounding shelves. The library is free, and open from ten in the morning to ten at night. Any one ca'-i make use of it. No matter how poor or shabbily dressed a man mciy be, he can come in as boldly as any student or pro- fessor. The workmen from the adjoining shops and factories make good use of the library during meal-hours. While on the subject of reading, I may state that the Press is well represented in Melbourne, there being three daily papers, one evening journal, several "weeklies," a Melbourne Punchy two illustrated papers, and numerous class-periodicals. We were privileged one night to hear a debate in the Legis- lative Assembly, a most ample hall, well seated and excfellently lighted. The stranger's gallery was filled mostly, as far as we could tell, with working men, who were no doubt interested in the re-arrangement of tariffs, the matter under discussion. Some folks think the heavy dues on the Victorian ports are suicidal, Melbourne. rr on well one 3gis- ntly and that the colony is being ruined ; others uphold that Pro- tection is nursing the young and feeble industries of the country. The arguments /n? and co7i would not be very interesting to the general reader, and are similar to those that can be heard in all countries where free-trade is not the law of the land. It would seem that protection is necessary for the growth of a new colony, and the only difficulty is in determining the point at which the tariffs can be dispensed with, when the defences can be thrown away, and the community is able to meet the full tide of the world's commerce. The wordy fight in the Assembly waxed loud and long. One or two offensive personal remarks were made, but apologised for, while the Speaker's voice occasionally rolled through the building with a call of" Order, order." Two friends of ours, who had recently been elected to Parliament, and could now write M. L. A. after their names, made telling speeches. Assurance was given us afterwards that this was a stirring debate. Nominally there are no poorhouses or workhouses in Mel- bourne. But there are kindred institutions. There is a Benevolent Asylum and an Orphan Asylum. Two import- ant buildings are the Melbourne and Alfred Hospitals, — the latter a beautiful structure on the St Kilda Road, commemorating the visit of the Duke of Edinburgh to the Australian colonies. The Blind Asylum is another important institution, where the inmates, in addition to useful trades, are taught vocal and instrumental music, which the committee have utiHsed to the raising of their funds by the occasional giving of concerts in the Town Hall. Of equal interest is the Deaf and Dumb Institution, where the scholars are taught by an elaborate system of signs grafted on their usual alphabet. This is a decided improvement ; for while there is animation and expres- siveness in the gestures, there is increased quickness in the conversation. As might be supposed, the faculty of the pupils for mimicry is very great, and the superintendent cultivates their pantomimic ability for their mutual amusement. His- torical tableaux are sometimes got up for the gratification of visitors, the scholars being chosen according to their real or fancied resemblance to Biblical or other characters. We were not favoured upon our visit with any special exhibition, the superintendent lamenting that he could not show us the spectacle of" Abraham offering up Isaac ; " for though Isaac was still in the institution, yet Abraham had gone to Tasmania to see his friends. T 12 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. One day we visitad the great penal establishment at Pent- ridge, a few miles from Melbourne. This famous prison or " Stockade," to which we were kindly invited by the Presby- terian chaplain, contained 600 convicts. Inside we found the prisoners alphabetically arranged. A, B, and C dividing them into various stages of wickedness. In one yard we saw a com- pany of convicts being searched seriatim, each individual in turn throwing up his hands in quite a formal manner, the examination itself being of necessity very ceremonious and cursory ; and in another, a number of prisoners were building a high wall, which task must have gone somewhat against their feelings. One of the workmen happened to jostle us in passing, and we were agreeably surprised to hear that he was one of the most notorious Victorian bushrangers, one who had kept whole districts in mortal terror for months on end. Some other worthies were also pointed out who were loaded with various degrees of infamy, and looked cool, unconcerned, and utterly commonplace. We were next shown over a series of work- shops, where the usual everyday trades were being pursued. In one room a party of thirty men were making boots and shoes, laughing and talking as merrily to each other as if they expected the leaving-off bell to sound next minute, and were hoping to spend a pleasant evening with their friends at the theatre. These men were guilty principally of forgery and embezzlement, and had finely-formed heads, with uniformly intelligent faces. In an adjoining workshop some more men of a similar class were busy upon soldiers' uniforms and cloth- ing of all kinds, the materials being handed to them by the foreman through a heavily-grated window. Our guide now took us to have a peep at the cells, telling us, however, that our view of the Stockade would be somewhat limited, as the whole of the establishment was in a dreadful state of anxiety and nervous- ness, owing to the attempt of one of the prisoners the previous afternoon to murder the Inspector-General, who was severely wounded. While passing through the first corridor, we heard a combined noise of scuffling and yells, and casting a sidelong glance at an open cell door we saw the murderous prisoner struggling in the arms of two warders. Hurriedly passing on, we came to the centre hall of the building, from which radiated long rows of cells. The prisoners seemed rather well cared for ; not a few of the cells were supplied with books, and some of them had their walls painted a delicate green for the comfort of inmates with weak eyes. Before leaving this department, we Melbourne. n ous- k^ious erely card long oner on, ated for ; le of ifort were locked up for a minute or so into that dreadful horror, " the Dark Cell," which is a perfectly sound-tight hole, any shout or yell being carried away up through the roof by a long iron pipe. A very little of this goes a long way with a refractory prisoner. While in this building we were told numerous stories of the attempts of convicts to escape. One of the latest failures in that line was that of three men who for three days secreted themselves under the zinc covering of the roof. The prisoners were discovered almost dead from the extreme heat, it being then the middle of summer, and the zinc roof fully exposed to the fierce rays of the sun. The last sight of interest was the violent criminals' exercise yard, a small circular building divided into grated compart- ments, with a raised tower in the centre, from which an observant warder overlooked his charge. The prisoners, who were heavily ironed, slouched backwards and forwards like caged wild animals. We were specially struck by the appear- ance of two of them — one a middle-aged Chinaman, and the other a youthful bushranger of some seventeen summers. The former had a piteous look about him that raised a striking amount of sentiment in his favour, till we learnt his crimes and his furious misconduct in the prison. The cool manner in which his misdeeds were narrated while he stood looking at us from a distance of less than three feet made us feel as if we were present at an interesting waxwork exhibition, rather than gazing at an animated being like ourselves. The young highwayman, on the other hand, had an aggravated hang-dog look that would have branded him as dangerous amongst a crowd of criminals. While in his cell he had slightly misconducted himself, having playfully pelted the prison officers with his rations of bread, and humorously kicked his soup-cans about the premises with a vast amount of swearing and insubordinate behaviour. We had next a look at two halls where choirs were practising. In one place a group of sturdy Wesleyan felons were vigorously engaged over a hymn ; and in another, up in a gallery, Episco- palian convicts harmoniously rendering " Hark the herald angels sing," while a man in a canvas coat, with P.A.D. on the back of it, accompanied on a harmonium. This concluded our experience in the gaol. As the cold weather had just set in when we arrived at Mel- bourne, we had twelve weeks' experience of an Australian winter, which turned out to be a total failure as far as inclem- ency was concerned, the bright and sunny days far out-number- T 14 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. ing the disagreeable and rainy. The weather was genial and bracing, but never very cold, with a sky generally cloudless and transparent, though sometimes covered with a network of light, fleecy, feathery clouds in every variety of delicate pattern and form. Now and then there appeared light " mackerel " clouds, *' downy feathers," and " horse tails," as they are called, that seemed to be switching the heavens to a most delicate blue. There was a sunny sparkle in the air that proved in the highest degree exhilarating. One seemed to be breathing brilliance — inhaling aerial champagne. On fine afternoons we visited successively the principal suburbs — Brighton and St Kilda, the fashionable sea-side resorts ; Williamstown and Sandridge, the bustling shipping-ports; Kew and Brunswick, the quiet and rural ; Prahran, Richmond, and Emerald Hill, the centres of busy trade — a thriving, handsome series of towns, nearly all merged into the city. The people of Melbourne are bustling and energetic. Business is conducted with British pluck and perseverance, spiced with Yankee enterprise. There is still j)erceptible a flavour of the prodigal generosity of the early " digging days." The folks are very warm-hearted, off-hand, and not troubled with burdensome conventionalities. Society, as represented by the Hat, is of a very free-and-easy nature. A person can and does wear whatever he ])leases. In the street you see every description of hat — high, low, straw, felt, white, black, and beaver — all shapes and sizes — some with broad brims, some vvith narrow brims, and some with no brims at all \ while many have lofty crowns that tower upwards to the height of eighteen inches. Yet, with all this, the fashions hold as important a place in Melbourne as in any capital of Europe, which is incontestably shown by the sj)lendid appearance pre- sented upon a fine afternoon when the aristocracy and elite of the city promenade the northern side of Collins Street, " doing the block," as it is colonially called. The inhabitants are very jealous of the good name of their town, and on all occasions urge the new-comer to express his opinion of it. The vital question, " How do you like Mel- bourne ? " was poured into our ears day and night. We had it at our meals ; we encountered it in our walks ; and had volleys of it at evening parties. We were asked the fatal opinion in crowded railway carriages ; questioned by acquaint- ances who cropped up i:. omnibuses ; saluted with the query by " companions of the bath \ " and addressed in all the varied circumstances in which it is possible to meet your fellow-man. Melbourne. 15 " You like Melbourne, do you ? " "Yes." " Much ? " " Very much." " But are you bearing very particularly in mind that the city is only thirty years old?" " Well, one is ai)t to forget that, but it's wonderful when you think of it." "Wonderful? why, it's astonishing." " Undoubtedly." " Do you think Melbourne is superior to Sydney?" "Oh, we haven't been there yet." " No ? well, you won't like it nearly half so well — it's a fearfully :;low place — a kind of dead-and-alive-town." " Indeeil ? " " Tliat is, compared with Melbourne ! " Luckily we could give a Hivourablo answer to their in(iuiries, for we admired their fine city almost as much as the residents them- selves. In Melbourne, at this time, wages were high, and the eight- hours' system almost universal. We heard occasionally that the working-classes were too fond of holiday-making. But they are frugal and industrious. This is proven by the great number of building-societies which have sprung up. Chief among these is the " Victorian Permanent," which is gigantic in its operations. It was invented and founded by an Edin- burgh man, who is now the head and life of the society. Twenty years ago, he came to the colony a working man, and lately was a Minister of the Crown. Our entertainment of Scottish Song ran for fifty-two nights on our first visit to Melbourne. The kindness we received in private was great, and was the beginning of that warm-hearted friendship which we have experienced all round the world. T CHAPTER II. BALLARAT — DOWN A GOLD MINE — GEELONG — A HOT-WIND DAY. Ballarat, the second city in the colony of Victoria, and the principal gold-field of Australia, is reached from Melbourne by one of the Government railways. The line strikes south-west- ward to Geelong, a journey of some 45 miles ; then it shoots away north-westward to Ballarat, about 50 miles further. You travel in all about 100 miles, for which the fare is ^i, 4s. first class, and i6s. second class ; there is no third class. The rail- way is very substantially built, but constructed, as it seemed to us, with too much consideration for posterity — large stone buildings serving as stations for decidedly rural districts, where passengers are few. We found the journey to Geelong rather uninteresting ; nothing but one long grassy plain, with only an occasional house to break the view. From Geelong to Balla- rat, we sped through timbered country, the line bounded on both sides by continuous fences. The trees, too, were all pro- vokingly alike — all members of the famous gum-tree family. Once the train burst into a clearing, where for a few moments we could see a small hut with blue curling smoke from a wood fire — logs heaped around — children playing about — a bare- armed man resting his axe to look at the passing train — a son of the bush on horseback — a bright open space, shrouded swiftly by the same forests as before. As we approached Ballarat the country became clearer, the thickly-wooded dis- tricts disappearing, and agricultural land taking its place. Still nearer Ballarat the farming in turn gave place to mining, the country gaining a romantic interest to us by the gradual appear- ance of the celebrated gold-field. Ballarat, as we saw it from the railway, was not peculiarly beautiful or striking. We certainly felt that we were looking at a large city, but it was a picture with a very sandy and desolate framework — that is, as regards its immediate neigh- bourhood, the country round being, on the contrary, hilly, green, and fertile, with lofty mountains standing out boldly at Ballarat. 17 various points of the landscape. Ballarat itself lies at an eleva- tion of 1437 feet above the sea, and ha« quite a different temperature from that of Melbourne, the atmosphere being much cooler and more bracing. The city is divided by the Yarrowee Creek into Ballarat East and Ballarat West, each honoured with a Mayor and a distinct set of Councillors, besides having between them three town halls and various other muni- cipal buildings. The population is 47,000. A closer view of the city raised it many degrees in our estimation. We found it possessed of fine streets, ornamental buildings, extensive shops, and a novel characteristic in the form of beautifully shaded walks. Sturt Street is surprisingly wide and commo- dious, with enclosed plantations, which run down the centre of the thoroughfare, and give it an indescribably soothing appear- ance. Though most of the streets are well built and regular, yet many of them are narrow, tortuous, and uneven. The irregular thoroughfares are those which were formed along the line of a gold "lead" or "claim" in the palmy old days when every man erected his house without any aim but his own conveni- ence. You commonly find that the worst constructed thorough- fares are the historic ground of nuggets and memorable "finds." The principal buildings in Sturt Street are the ornamental and commanding Town Hall ; the Theatre Royal ; the Mechanics' Institute — a building with an elegant frontage, a commodious hall, and a fine library ; the Fire Brigade Station ; the Offices of the Ballarat Courier and Star , — the list being swelled by a number of banks, each rivalling the other in magnificence of architecture. Among other public buildings are the Hospital, Orphan Asylum, Benevolent Asylum, and a Free Public Library. One day we made a journey to the southern side of the town. Here was a wilderness of gold "claims," a sight not to be forgotten. At every step we were met by innumerable heaps of sand surmounted by windlasses — all around were mud- holes, sickly yellow pools, mounds of fresh-turned earth, and heaps of hard, grass-grown sand, with here and there a head momentarily visible, or the point of a pick or shovel — the whole scene a universal mutilation of nature. Here were miners busy shovelling up sifted refuse or " tailings " — others rocking a gold-cradle or " sieve " — Chinamen, too, engaged in a search after microscope gold, and some in their eagerness sweeping the very dust of the tracts — an act, by the way, forbidden in the streets of the town under a heavy penalty. If ever a city was paved with gold it is Ballarat. Away up on a B rr i8 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. n hillside roared a quartz-crushing battery, of some sixty "stamp- ers," kept continually busy by the mines in the neighbourhood. This Black Hill, as it is called, is the scene of extensive operations. It is now stripped of all vegetation, and has a very desolate appearance. It has been raked fore and aft, sliced down the middle like a gigantic cheese, tunnelled, blasted, and scraped in every conceivable direction. A row of shafts, too, have been sunk on the bottom of this artificial valley, the sides of which stand up white and precipitous, broken here and there by the dark mouth of a tunnel — a ready-made cave for some future colonial hermit. Upon the other side of the town are situated the more pre- tentious mines, the road from Ballarat to Sebastopol, an important suburb, being thickly dotted with smoking chim- ney:, puffing engines, fields of " tailings," lines of tramways, managers' offices, sheds, huts, puddling machines, and "poppet- heads " (the framework erected over the mouth of a mine). Upon the invitation of an inspector of the " Band of Hope " claim, we one day went down that famous alluvial mine, and viewed the underground workings. We put on a complete miner's dress, composed of a greasy canvas cap, a heavy, coarse flannel shirt, a dirt-bespattered blouse, thick worsted stockings, and voluminous, lengthy pants, the surplus of which we stuffiid into a pair of knee-high Wellington boots. Equipped with candles, we went down in the iron cage, the sides of the shaft seeming to fly upwards, and an ancient humid odour asserting itself more definitely every moment. The silence was unbroken save by the occasional scraping of the cage upon the shaft, and the dull throbbing of the engine distinctly felt in the vibration of the cage. 1 was strangely tempted to look upwards towards the mouth of the shaft, but the backward motion of my head aroused my companion, a stalwart miner. " For goodness' sake, sir, don't look up — keep your head well in — why, only the other day a mar had his brains scooped out agin' the shaft doin' the same thing; an' I know a man that had an eye knocked out by a bit of stuff falling in his ut 250 miles distant from each of the two capitals. It is situated upon the shores of Portland Bay. The town is a larger edition of Belfast, just such another blue-stone place ; but it has more life and activity. It is one of the oldest settlements in the colony, Mr Henty having established a whaling station here in 1834, just six months before Bateman arrived at Port Phillip and founded Melbourne. From Portland we struck inland once more through the bush. The Bush — what is the Bush ? You will find nothing like it in our British v/oods, in the backwoods of Canada, or the forests of New Zealand. The; Australian bush is unique. Its general features are tameness and sameness. It consists of undulating, grassy, thinly-timbered country. The trees stand wide apart, and there is not the slightest undergrowth, so that a coach-and-four can drive through any part of it. The leaves on the gum-trees are long and thin, and turn their edges to the sun. There is therefore very little shade in the bush ; the sun penetrates freely, and the grass, which is always light, grows thin and brown in the summer-time. Everything appears to be burnt up. The earth is hard and dry, and has not the springy velvetiness of a British park. The trunks of the trees are dry ; there is no humid moss about the roots. The bush road winds its lonely way through the forest in many a curve, every succeeding horse and vehicle helping to give it more defined form. When wet weather comes, the mas- sive lumbering bullock-drays form deep holes and ruts in the track, and lighter vehicles have to spread out in different direc- tions to avoid the old road. It is no uncommon sight to see seven or eight different tracks taking their several ways through the bush in all stages of development, from the almost completed road to the barely perceptible wheel-marks on the grass. Some- times the traveller comes to a wide open space, with tracks winding tantalisingly to right and left, and if a " new chum," or stranger, he is sadly at a loss. They stretch out before him like the fingers on his outspread hand. This one does not lead in the right direction ; that one does not seem well enough trodden to be trustworthy. He would take the middle-finger track, if a little further on it did not suddenly turn in a suspicious fore- finger direction. The thumb starts well, but after all it is hardly so taking as the little-finger track. Yes, it will do ; and yet the fourth finger is the very way he wants to go. It appears to keep a straight course. Tut, tut ! it gets fainter and fainter. Oh, if there were only a hut to inquire at ! The stranger is sorely D II \\ vi y\ I li'i i ;! if i 50 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. puzzled, but in the end trusts to luck, little knowing that the tracks all harmc liously blend at no distant spot, like the con- verging lines of a railway junction. A bush road is generally lonely, and you never meet any one except an occasional swagman, stock-rider, bullock-driver, or commercial traveller. The swagman or tramp is a kind of demoralized gaberlunzie, who trudges about from squatter to squatter, and from township to township, begging food or assistance on his journey; which journey is endless, and con- tinues from year's end to year's end. The professional swag- man walks to live. One species of tramp is the " sundowner," so called from his habit of appearing at a squatting-station about sunset, and asking food and shelter for the night. The generous " open-door" hospitality of the early days, which has latterly been abused, is fast disappearing from amongst the squatters, and instead of his usual cold mutton, the swagman now gets the cold shoulder. Sometimes the tramps accept v/ork once a year, about shearing time, at one or other of the sheep stations, or seek occupation in a country town ; but as a rule they are migratory and lazy. An uninitiated person is very apt to confound the swagman with the foot-passenger or unemployed mechanic travelling in search of work, their equipment being the same — a "swag," or strapped-up bundle of sleeping- blankets, slung over the shoulder ; a " billy " or tin can in which to make tea or coftee while camping; and a small " pannikin " to drink water out of at any creek or spring. Now and then you see sailors and ship-stewards " swaggmg it " through the bush, runaways from some lately-landed vessel, but the eye at once detects them as amateurs ; they have not the swing of the professional loafer. As for the stock-rider, you can hear him for a long distance waking the echoes of the bush with loud pistol-cracks, as he swings the short-handled, long-thonged stock-whip round his head. He rides up to the tail of a drove of cattle, managing his horse with great facility and grace, though stock-riding is one of the most arduous and difficult of occupations. He is generally dressed in low-crowned, broad- brimmed hat, loose flannel shirt, tight white trousers, and high top-boots, with a handkerchief of some sort tied round his neck — a trifle like the pictures one sees at home of the stockman, but some degrees less spick-and-span looking. While driving along you will sometimes observe in the distance a cloud of white dust, and hear the creak of wheels, with loud shouts and whip-lashes, which announce the ap- /if; I Si 4 i A Bush Concert. 51 r that the ; the con- st any one -driver, or a kind of :iuatter to I food or and con- Dnal swag- ndowner," ing-station ght. The which has longst the : swagman :cept v/ork the sheep t as a rule is very apt nemployed nent being sleeping- n in which pannikin " and then rough the he eye at zing of the hear him with loud ig-thonged lof a drove Ind grace, lifficult of led, broad- and high his neck stockman, jQ in the )f wheels, the ap- proach of the bullock-driver and his team. In a short time you see emerging from the cloud a string of six, eight, or ten long-horned bullocks, with heavy hanging heads, and a slow swinging gait of some three miles an hour. The oxen are yoked to a long dray with small, broad-tired wheels, the whole afiair having quite an Eastern appear- ance ; but instead of a turbaned individual with a goad, you have a seedy, dust-covered man in a slouched hat. He carries a long whip, its trailing lash some eight feet in length, with which he flips the haunches of the furthest bullock. " Hoick ! hoick ! get up, Diamond ! Now then, Daisy ! come hither, Strawberry! Hoick ! hold off. Brandy ! Hoick! you short-homed Whisky, come up ! Nobbier, what do you mean, eh ? hoick ! hoick ! " He seizes the long-handled whip and gives each a cut in turn, with the addition of high-flavoured epithets, the bullock- driver being chargeable with a large amount of vocal sin. The commercial traveller is much the same kind of person as at home. He rattles through the bush in a waggonette with two horses, his tin boxes of samples strapped behind, and his "man " driving on the seat beside him. In warm weather the commercial throws off his coat, pulls out his meerschaum pipe, and buries himself in the newspaper ; even he can throw off ceremony in the bush. Then there are the public coaches, owned by Cobb & Co., that s])ank along with their team of four horses, passing you with a i cheery salute from the driver, and hand-wavings from the box- passengers — a pleasant break in the bush monotony. At night ; these red coaches flare along with a circle of immense lamps I over the driver's head — a halo of inverted coal-scuttles that ■ gleam over the horses' backs, and shine away forward into the darkness, revealing the track, and keeping the coach clear of obstacles. At Branxholme, a small village, we gave a concert ; but the only place we could get to sing in was a little wooden school- room that stood solitary some 300 yards away in the bush. The room was so limited that tickets had to be sold at a table in the open air. Twenty minutes, ten minutes to eight, and yet no audience. It was not till eight o'clock, when the J shades of evening had set in, that the people began to assemble. , Here and there figures passed and repassed through the trees, 1 disappearing and reappearing, but all the while gradually near- I ing the schoolroom. At different points persons seemed to be I starting up from the earth, so noiseless was their approach. I On all sides we could hear the soft thud of horses' hoofs on the hi: I. % 4il I \-\l ill t ! I 52 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. grass, and the jolting nimble of carts. Inside was about as strange a concert-room as could well be imagined. The audi- ence were seated on school-desks and forms, while we had to sing on a platform composed of a brandy-box covered with a tablecloth. The lighting consisted of our two coach- lamps, one each end of the " stage," supplemented by one or two candles stuck in bottles, which we asked the front-seat people kindly to hold in their hands. The room was soon filled to overcrowding; but upon the doorkeeper jocosely announcing to those outside that they could go " Up the chimney for a shilling ! " some half-dozen people rushed in and immediately took up position in a large capacious fire-place, while the rest swarmed noisily outside, and looked in at numberless holes and broken windows. At ten o'clock the concert concluded, and the audience slowly dispersed amongst the trees, with cart- rumbles, hoof-falls, and phantom flittings as before. The town of Hamilton came next in our route, the chief town of the extreme western district of Victoria. It is finely built, and its streets are thronged with fashionably attired damsels. Melbourne sends forth every summer a large number of young ladies to this pastoral metropolis, where they can lead a rural life without relinquishing town luxuries. As an example of how small matters show themselves in a limited population, we may mention that one morning the landlord of our hotel lamented to us the fact, that the town was about to suffer a severe pecuniary loss, a family being on the point of leaving for Melbourne, whereby a sumof ;^2ooo would be lost to the com- munity annually. An individual on the staff of the local paper was also grieved at the railway now being projected to Hamilton. " It will do no good," he said ; " it spoils trade : it comes here with its refreshment rooms, and its tea and coffee at twopence a cup. It knocks all our business out of gear, too; and" (with a touch of pathos) "it brings in here the Melbourne papers only eight hours after publication ! " A thrilling incident had lately taken place in connection with the Hamilton reservoir. The simple tale was told us by a friend. A certain local black man, an aborigine, loved a " gin " or black woman. He had a strong attachment for her — he could love no other — there was no other within a radius of 150 miles. He had also a great love for whisky, and allowed the " gin " to join him in his libations. They were often to be seen in a happy state, wandering hand in hand amongst the scenery of the neighbourhood. One dire afternoon the " gin " came run ■,'>^ i >:,|B ■« T *^B c \ ^ « r >^q^ b 5^ u ii t^ ( S( m tl ;| a m w % w % Cl 1 s\ i ei 1 w 1 T i tc .1 cl 1 til 1 St 1 II 1 tl- 5, tc 'i* S( ) T i, d 1 a fc 4 tc (m a ^^ n fe ^S w •9 s about as The audi- le we had (X covered wo coach- by one or : front-seat soon filled nnouncing iney for a Immediately ile the rest ) holes and luded, and with cart- , the chief It is finely bly attired ■ge number ^y can lead in example Dopulation, our hotel to suffer a leaving for the com- ocal paper Hamilton. omes here wopence a d" (with a apers only ction with i us by a da "gin" —he could 150 miles. " gin " to seen in a scenery of came run The Middle Diggings. 53 ning into Hamilton, wringing her hands in violent anguish. " Oh I black man gone — me see him no more — he angry with me — he drown himselfin the dam for me! oh! oh!" The]alarmed inhabi- tants dragged the dam for two days with no success. Thirst l)revailed all over Hamilton. At length the people determined to get at the bottom of the mystery and the reservoir : they commenced an elaborate systematic drainage. When the dam was emptied they found nothing but the blackest of mud, which they hoped might have been the black man held in solution. The minds of the Hamilton folks were agitated for many days, but at length word came that the long-sought-for savage had been found drunk, along with his " gin," in a low public-house in WarrnMmbool. Between Hamilton and Ararat we saw the lofty peaks of the Grampian Range, with Mount Abrupt towering up on the southern extremity. This range is about as peculiar as any in the colony, being serrated in an extraordinary degree, and appearing like a series of detached peaks strung together and welded at the base. Our first view of Ararat was striking. We were bowling sharply up a gentle slope which led through a deep cutting of red soil on the brow of the hill, when the town rose swiftly up and filled the gap into which we were driving — the embankments on each side of the road forming a coloured frame- work to the scene. At Ararat we struck the Middle Diggings. This region is a collection of hot, bricky, inflammable-looking townships, generally composed of one long stretch of shops and chief buildings, with other houses straggling out here and there, as if they had lost heart at not finding room in the chief street, and had become quite reckless and careless of appearances. In or near each town is the *' Chinese camp," which presents the common features of poverty and dirt. These are paradoxical to the nature of the people themselves, who are generally more sober, industrious, and saving than many European miners. The huts are occasionally relieved by Chinese cottages, decorated with gay verandahs and variegated lamps ; but these are owned by long-resident nabobs, who have plodded along for twenty years, and have about ;!£'io in the bank ! Of the 40,673 miners in Victoria, 11,216 are Chinese. Some mining- towns are flourishing ; but as a rule quartz is worked now in as unexciting and systematic a way as coal or iron. The miners get settled wages, and there is none of the old romantic fever. The men go about regretting the "good old days," when alluvial digging was in its heyday, and when " any man, !• 1 I- Pi 'ill ■yjl !l ■| 1 % 11 I ill li v.- t f I $ V 54 Kennedys Colonial Travel. though he had his hands in his pockets, could turn up a nugget with the toe of his boot ! " Stawell, 01 Pleasant Creek, was a prosperous mining town, with very little of the rural in its immediate neighbourhood. At the hotel there was great scarcity of milk. Every morning a boy had to gallop on horseback into the country for milk, with two specially-made cans strapped to the saddle. Near Stawell is a small Scottish community, which some years ago was very exclusive. An Irishman, it is said, came one day to settle in the place. Next morning a deputation of indignant Scots waited on him, demanded he should either put Mac to his name, or leave the district. He chose the former alternative, and was ever afterwards known as MacFlaherty ! Landsborough was our next stage — a decayed mining town — a musty, canvas- flapping place. You could almost fancy you saw its ribs. In former days it was three times the size, owing to a great flock of tents that fluttered down some years ago during a famous rush. These have all fled and gone, leaving the old nucleus of bark huts and stores. Some of these wooden houses are more comfortable as to their interior arrangements than one would imagine. They have respectable furniture, and of course a piano. We say of course, because, as in most mining towns, nearly every person has a piano. During the gold rushes, when a digger became possessed of a " pile," he would perhaps commence by having a good lengthy drink, but he would assuredly at one time or other purchase a Collard or a Broad- wood. As often as not the instruments were second-hand, tuneless, and thrummy ; but what cared Alluvial Jack or Auriferous Bill? The piano had a shape to it, had a good shiny case, and was altogether about the right sort of length for them ; so out came the roll of notes, and the piano went home. Avoca was another gold-digging, with an uncomfortable hotel. In my bedroom I could see the stars through the big rents in the ceiling, and the draught was almost unbearable. The wall, however, was cheerfully ornamented with a large emblazoned card of a life insurance company — the other decorations consisting of large greasy smudges and long streaks of smoke, caused no doubt by the close proximity of the candles of infuriated mosquito-hunters. We next visited the townships of Talbot, Maryborough, and Dunolly — the latter a celebrated nugget-ground. At Dunolly we came across the locust plague which had been % % Daylesford. 55 a nugget ing town, jourhood. ^ morning nilk, with ar Stawell was very > settle in mt Scots ac to his ternative, Isborough y, canvas- ribs. In reat flock a famous lucleus of are more ne would course a ng towns, d rushes, i perhaps le would a Broad- )nd-hand, Jack or i a good of length ano went nfortable I the big wearable. L large ■ '1% ad been devastating Victoria for several months. The locusts are about the greatest curse the colony has had for years. One clergy- man was heard to declare firmly that the crossing of the locusts over the South Australian border had been contemporaneous with the passing of the new Education Bill, which to him con- tained some objectionable clauses. Two days previously the shopkeepers of Dunolly had unanimously put up their shutters and closed business because of them. Clothing hung out to dry was subsequently found to be pierced and riddled, window- blinds even not escaping. It seemed like a heavy snow-storm, each flake animated, fluttering, and whirring. The sky was laden with wings. Every step you took startled fresh clouds of the insects. They were about an inch and a half in length, somewhat like a grasshopper, and armed with two large, power- ful, propelling saw-legs. The insects when we saw them were pursuing a southerly course, and many were the schemes put forward to get rid of them — some advocating the introduction of certain well-known locust-birds, others purposing to dig trenches and build long lines of fires, as the most effectual means of riddance. The locusts, by the way, did not hear the conclusion of the argument, as they went steadily forward, and landed in the sea near Geelong. We have now come round, in the course of our circular tour, to Daylesford, seventy-eight miles from Melbourne. It is a town hidden amongst hills. It has a pretentious pink hospital, an unassuming mechanics' institute, and a small theatre. We performed in the latter building, which at this time was in a most wretched condition. It belonged to a second-rate public- house, at the back of which the theatre rose in all its brick simplicity. It was with great difficulty that we could get it ready for the evening. The interior was dingy, with cracked, mouldy walls, pasted over at places with faring posters of dramatic companies. The public had to sit cheek-by-jowl with bare bricks and broken laths. In wet weather, the roof was so leaky that the rain formed in^large puddles on the floor, and the audience had to put up their umbrellas ! We found good halls in most places, but this was an exception. Between Buninyong and Ballan we passed the township of Mount Egerton, the locality of one of the most daring bank robberies in Victoria of late years ; while we struck the Melbourne high road nt Gordon, where a bank manager travelling with a large sum of gold was cruelly murdered. Bacchus Marsh, our final stage previous to entering Melbourne, it* *■'■ r' '■■■ [I I 56 Kennedys Colonial Travel. i. was approached through cloudsof locusts and thistledown — two curses of the colony combined. Many a one laments the ill-judged patriotism that induced an enthusiastic Scotchman to plant his national emblem in Australia. It has thriven but too well. Every wind blows its seed "broadcast. The thistle nuisance has reached such gigantic proportions that a special Act of Parliament has been passed for its suppression. Bacchus Marsh is reached in all directions by rather pre- cipitous descents, and lies in a natural basin, surrounded by a girdle of sloping embankments. As the place seemed built for a flood, we commenced condoling with several of the inhabi- tants upon the great discomfort they must suffer from the inundations during the winter time ; but judge of our astonish- ment when they told us it was the driest place in all the colony. We accepted the fact as one of the numerous paradoxes which are poked at you by the Australians. They delight in heaping up wonders for you. " Our seasons and months do not agree with yours ; our cherries, as you will observe, grow with singular perversity stone outermost ; our north wind is warm, and does not breathe of snow and icicles like yours ; and our gum-trees shed their bark instead of their leaves." The hotel we were living at was the scene of a little un- pleasantness, for during the day the landlord got drunk, and had a fight with his groom for some trivial offence. The two combatants came swooping round the corner, the stableman lamenting a large portion of his shirt, and the landlord dancing about frantically with a beef-steak clapped to his eye. We ran in and hurriedly paid our bill to the landlady, who was in great fear of her husband. We determined to leave in the early morning, and went to bed as soon as possible — but not to sleep ! The landlord had locked himself into the bar, and was swearing through the key-hole at everybody and everything in a gloriously uninterrupted manner, and it was not till after much coaxing, and at an early hour in the morning, that he was jot out. We had then a short sleep, an early start, a breakfast half-way, and a dash into Melbourne near the close of the afternoon. So ended our eight weeks' tour of 600 miles. 1 >ii CHAPTER V. OVERLAND FROM MELBOURNE TO SYDNEY — A BUSH CONCERT — HEECHWORTH — " CAMPING FUNERAL OF AN EXPLORER. OUT ' — WAGGA WAGGA Our projected overland journey from Melbourne to Sydney seemed to strike all our friends as a remarkable proceeding. They protested strongly against it — some of them conjured up bushrangers, who, of course, were long extinct in " respectable Victoria," but were still to be met with in the crude unsettled districts of New South Wales. Others spoke of rough roads and bad accommodation; but in the end, finding us determined, they changed their friendly remonstrances into suggestions, one enthusiastic individual writing us out a voluminous list of articles required for travelling. This wonderful document, amongst a host of items, urged coils of rope, advised hatchets, counselled tin cans and soup-basins, proposed nails, hammers, and screw- wrenches, and above all things impressed upon us the necessity of taking feed for the horses and food for ourselves ! We set out on the 17th of March 1873. It is best to be precise, though our journey was perhaps less eventful than an exploration into the interior. Our procession swept out of Melbourne. First our big dog Uno, bounding and barking with joy ; then two of us riding on horseback ; then the coach with its white cover on the roof, its team of four-in-hand, and Patrick holding the reins with an air of great dignity ; and last, not least, the buggy, containing the respectedpersonsofPaterand Mater. It was a hot-wind day. We had before us an implac- ably straight road, swept by a succession of dust-storms, which veneered horses, coach, and human beings with a white impalp- able powder. On each side spread long grassy plains, sprinkled with homesteads, hay and corn stores, small public-houses, and blacksmiths' forges. It was a dreary, dusty drive for the first twenty miles or so, after which we left the hot plain and came under the shelter of swelling wooded knolls. We rested at Kilmore, thirty-seven miles out, an agricultural \ m I ii i I i 58 Kennedys Colonial Travel. town, with 1600 of a population, mostly composed of Irishmen. Being St Patrick's Day, there was great celebration in Kilmore, two straggling, tuneless brass bands promenading the streets through the day, and a ball taking place in the evening. The town was further excited on the following morning by a trotting-match between a local pony and a presumptuous stranger mare — which event had some hundreds of pounds staked upon it. Towards noon the revellers of the preceding night emerged from the various hotels and lolled about the street corners, their intelligences in a very ilim twilight state. Most of them, however, were sober enough to bet upon the race — one bemuddled man amusing us by jjcrsistently stuffing as his stake a handful of pound-notes into another's eye. In the afternoon the street was busy with the people returning from the race-course, the event having proved in favour of the Kilmore pony. The matter was on every tongue — groups of people discussed it in the roadway — horsemen stopped each other to congratulate or condole — while one excited ec^uestrian dashed breathlessly up the street, yelling out the good news to the open-mouthed shopkeepers, who popped out feverishly on each side as he passed. Then we went on to Seymour ; thence again some twenty- eight miles to Longwood, so called from the seemingly inter- minable forest that leads up to it. The day was warm, and the road wound through continuous tracks of white, barkless sap- lings. There were as a rule few human beings visible, save where we came upon a small hut, when a bevy of wild children, followed by a bronzed mother, would scamper out to see the passing vehicle. Some of these cottages were curiosities in their way. They were composed wholly of large sheets of bark tacked together with canvas, the culinary and domestic opera- tions being performed at the foot of the nearest tree. The inhabitants of these bark huts gain a livelihood by cutting and felling trees, which they cart in drays to the nearest township or railway station. Longwood seemed to the eye as if half-a- dozen cottages had sworn to a hotel and post-office that they would keep them company, and not leave them in the wilderness alone. From Longwood to Violet Town was a heavy drive through sandy tracks, with the dust spouting from the wheels. A hotel, store, and post-office, in one block of buildings, constituted the whole place. As the daylight faded the chilly wind blew in deep gusts from the dark forest, and camp fires blazed out in Overland from Melbourne to Sydney, 59 e twenty- |gly inter- , and the less sap- ble, save children, see the )sities in s of bark ic opera- te. The ting and ownship if half-a- hat they Iderness through A hotel, uted the blew in out in 1 various quarters. A number of farmers from Major Plains, twenty-five miles distant, had encamped across the road from the hotel, and were busy boiling tea in large "billies" — meat, fowls, and bread plentifully sui)plying this practical matter-of-fact pic-nic. The passages of the small hotel swarmed with large- bearded, red-faced bushmen, blue-nosed coach-drivers, and commercial travellers. Huge logs blazed and crackled cheer- fully in the large open fire-places. At dinner, we encountered some magnificent specimens of the colonial farmer — one a tall, strong-built Irishman, who treated his left-hand companion, a member of Parliament, to a very lucid description and con- demnation of the Victorian Land Act, but who spoilt the effect and interest by declaring at the end that it cost him ;^2oo a year for his " nobblers " or drams, and that no man could possibly say he was earning a living who banked less than ;^iooo per year. We had some difficulty in getting quarters here, as the hotel was full. One limited room was occupied by six low trestle- beds placed side by side, and filling up the entire floor, so that to reach his humble couch the furthest sleeper had to step over five beds. "Shake-downs" or mattresses were also laid down on the floors of the other rooms. As we had determined to sing in every place, large or small, we gave our entertainment here. The largest room in the hotel was arranged in imitation of a hall. The table became the platform, and all the chairs about the house were gathered together. The lounging benches that stood in the verandah were brought in ; tub-stools came from the kitchen ; and rough pieces of timber, or halves of saplings, were laid on boxes with the rough, rounded side uppermost. By a little squeezing and good-humour on the lience, a large number of people managed to i)f iliem had come from many miles round. In ry-places we used our "wee peeawny," as an old icd it. This was a square Uttle instrument, four ; and a half, made to our order by Wornum, of Store London. Since then it has been all round the world — ; suns of Queensland, and frozen amid been handled by Yankee " baggage- ters — has tumbled off carts and fallen ort, has conducted itself in a roving I am perfectly certain, ever did before, pt marvellously well in tune. We packed part CO 01 c t, 5co. octa Str. been baked beneath tl the snows of Canac smashers" or railwav downstairs; and, i way, such as no piaL It served us well, and It m a canvas cover, with leather handles to it, so that two of 6o Kennedy's Colonial Travel. us could carry it. The three legs were previously screwed off and enshrined in green bags. Within three or four minutes from the final chorus of "Auld Lang Syne," the piano was strapped up ready to go on the back of the coach. We regarded it as a valuable member of our family. This township was a good sample of many others. They are all alike. You emerge from the bush into suburbs of stumps and felled trees, the first indications of progressing settlement — then you catch sight of a brick store with a wooden verandah in front — next, the humble post-office — finally, tho low-roofed wooden hotel, with a swinging signboard, a group of coach passengers or riders, and horses fastened to the hitching-posts or railings. You pass these and come again into the vicinity of stumps ; you cross a creek on a little bridge which is painted white to make it visible in the dark; then you disappear once more in the solitude of the trees. These town- ships are as much bush-girt as islands are sea-girt. The hotel yard next morning was full of Cobb's mail-coaches, bound for various parts of the country. Soon with a clatter and a rush the coaches left. We had intended following the mail for the purpose of obtaining the shortest route to Benalla, but the information which we received about the road was so precise, so minute, and so intelligible, that we determined to proceed upon our own responsibility. This ended in our being lost five hundred yards from the town. We wandered for miles without seeing face or habitation, dashing on in great anxiety, losing tracks and finding fresh ones, till we struck a small hamlet. Here we gained some more precise and minute information, which sent us through innumerable paddocks with immense slip-panels, every individual bar of which had to be carefully taken out and replaced upon each occasion. We made a journey of seventeen miles extend to one of thirty. Near Oxley, some few miles from Benalla, there was an encampment of blacks, and a company of four children and two women soon introduced themselves. One of the lubras was old, and very black, but with a blacker eye, which she had received during a recent " corroboree " or committee meeting of the natives. This assembly takes place once a month at every full moon. The old, plump, black woman had the usual flat nose, but it seemed to have acquired flatness beyond that of nature's bestowing. Her hair was long and glossy, and she was dressed in loosely-tacked corn-sacks. The other lubra was younger, and had white pearly teeth ; she carried a baby Beechworth. 6i crewed off ir minutes piano was e regarded !rs. They suburbs of irogressing I a wooden inally, tho J, a group id to the again into ;tle bridge ; then you hese town- il-coaches, I a clattv^ir owing the Benalla, )ad was so rmined to id in our wandered n in great : struck a id minute ocks with ad to be ion. We hirty. 1 was an iren and le lubras she had meeting nonth at the usual ond that and she er lubra a baby I slung over her back, the little one fast asleep. The children were from six to twelve years old, and scampered about in costumes that seemed only a formal yielding to social require- ments. The aboriginals are made to work at the Oxley Hotel, where we were staying, but they are somewhat lazy ; and it was amusing to see the length of time they took to clean a candle- stick, shake a hearthrug, or wash a plate. They presented us with a live opossum, which we kept as a pet for weeks after- wards. It was quite tame. It used to climb our knees, jump on the top of our heads, hang by its tail from our forefinger, scamper about the house, and scramble up window-curtains. It was, of course, no favourite of the landlady we had in Sydney, and one day we found it curled up dead, evidently poisoned, in a r;orner of our room. We visited Wangaratta, and then went on to Beechworth. For some hours we went over a mangled and mutilated road, recently swept by floods of rain. Then the country began to rise, and we commenced the eight-mile hill, or series of hills, which lead up to Beechworth, and which peemed, in our ignor- ance of the road, to be endless. We almost expected to see a thunder-cloud trailing along the main street, or driving mists obscuring shops and houses. Beechworth is the chief town of the extensive Ovens and Murray District, and stands some 2000 feet above Melbourne, which is 185 miles distant. The air is pure and bracing. It is thought that when communication is facilitated, Beechworth will be greatly resorted to by those whose constitutions have been weakened by the warmer climates of Melbourne and similar low-lying districts. There is little if anything of digging to be seen. The only instance of gold- research we came upon was two Chinamen puddling away in a yellow debilitated creek, which humbly crept, as if in fear of being caught intruding, through a steep gully, the sloping sides of which glistened with glazed boulders and masses of volcanic stone. This ravine meets ]"OU just upon entering the town, and strikes the key-note to the general appearance of the country in this district, which is ragged, picturesque, and said to be rich in mineral wealth beyond that of gold. ^ Leaving Beechworth, an abrupt turn of the road brought us in sight of Yackandandah, lying far below in a level plain. This portion of the country goes by the name of the Valley of the Murray, and is famed for vine-growing. The landscape was thickly dotted with luxuriant vineyards, laid out in long symmetrical rows, and gleaming with the rich yellow tints of I! i i 11^ % ^!li ■Ml 62 Ketinedys Colonial Travel. autumn. Orchards, too, are numerous, and fruit plentiful to a degree, cartloads of peaches having rotted away in heaps by the roadside. Between Yackandandah and Chiltem we came across a troublesome piece of road known as the " Gap," consisting of a steep precipitous rough-made track, winding down the side of a hill. It is the bugbear of the district. After long suspense we reached the level ground, but had scarcely gone twenty yards when the " kingbolt " of the coach (the pivot run down through the front axle) snapped in two, and with a crash the pole flew up into the air, smashing one of the horses' mouths, and elevating the swingle-bar high above the leader's back. With the greatest difficulty the animals were brought to a stand-still, and had it not been for two strong supplementary leather belts round the axle, the horses would have departed at full speed with a legacy of wheels. After half-an-hour's leverage with poles and saplings, we put in a spare bolt which we carried with us, and resumed our journey. Two days after leaving Chiltem we crossed the Murray at Wahgunyah. In nautical phraseology we were twenty-three days out, and we gave a cheer as we passed into New South Wales. Eastward, on the north bank of the Murray, we drove forty-one miles to Albury, bowling along in an exhilarating manner, now and then startling great mobs of horses, who would snort and kick up their heels preparatory to a glorious stampede through the bush, and ofttimes charging through a herd of cows, who in turn would lower their heads with a look of courage, and then turn tail and amble ingloriously into a ditch. Albury is the largest town on the River Murray, and has a population of 2000. Its principal industry is the manufacture of wines, and the fame of Albury has spread on bottle-labels from one end of Australia to the other. Near the river, upon an open space of ground, is erected a graceful marble obelisk to the memory of Mr Hamilton Hume, who discovered the River Murray in 1824, during his famous expedition from Sydney to Port Phillip. Our hotel accommodation in Albury was none of the best. Exteriorly, the building looked first class, and the interior was also excellent. But the people owning the hotel were marked parvenus. The hotel seemed to be in reality a place for the comfortable residence of the landlord and his family, the guests being continually in the way, and tolerated only as an unavoidable and inconvenient let. ■f Overland from Melbourne to Sydney. 63 ntiful to a ips by the across a isting of a ; side of a spense we 2nty yards n through pole flew uths, and :k. With stand-still, ther belts full speed :rage with ve carried Murray at enty-three ew South we drove chilarating rses, who a glorious through a ith a look sly into a nd has a nufacture ttle-labels ver, upon e obelisk ered the on from n Albury ced first 2 people seemed of the in the nvenient Our "farewell" to the hotel had a way of making money, touch of gladness in it. We are ofif now to Wagga Wagga, ninety miles north. It is a hard two days' journey, but the horses are fresh and well- rested. We make a start as usual in the early morning ; all the forenoon we wind monotonously through endless sheep- runs, with no companions but the tuneful magpies and occasional clusters of sheep. At midday we pull up at a creek and camp for a couple of hours. We unharness the horses, and tie them to the trees round about us — then one of us runs down to the creek to fetch water, another spreads a white cloth on a sloping bank, and a third scrapes together chips, twigs, pieces of bark, and miscellaneous tinder, making a blazing fire against a tree stump. By this time the supplies are out of the coach — a cosmopolitan diet of canned meats — sardines from Paris, herring from Aberdeen, oysters from Baltimore, and currant- jelly from Hobart Town, Tasmania. While we are occupied with these, the "billy" is bubbling on the fire, and another large can is simmering with potatoes. The horses are busy crunching their maize ; our driver is bedding up the fire with logs, and fanning it with his old slouched hat. He makes us some capital tea, which we enjoy with the hot potatoes. Then we stretch ourselves out in the shade, and enjoy a short dreamy siesta, for the day is warm. In half an hour we are up and bustling about, folding our tablecloth, collecting our tin pannikins, hooking our pail and billies to the back of the coach, collecting the horse-feed, and harnessing the horses. We are careful, too, to put out the fire — there is a heavy fine inflicted on any one who leaves anything burning in the bush. The grass is dry, and a spark sometimes will set it ablaze. A brief look round to see that nothing is left, and we are off. Still the same wearisome scenery — trees, trees, trees every- where — new vistas opening in front, and vistas fading away behind us. The track was ever winding — you had sometimes peeps of it far away ahead, but the trees would stalk in one by one and hide it ; then it would appear once more in a fresh place, and we could see by the strange direction it went that we had many a bend and curve to make before we overtook it. Towards the close of the afternoon, the sun sinking lower in the sky ribbed the track with the long shadows of the trees, and glanced brightly at us through the openings in the foliage. Then the far-off timber seemed to rise and shut out the sunset, the track becoming suddenly dusky, and silence settling on us I u. MM J M^ 11 • If ' If, =3T m 64 Kennedy's Coloftial Travel. all at once. In the midst of the quiet we kept watching the evolutions of the track, and as it slid about we personified it into some obstinate unearthly sprite or other, and we could almost imagine it chuckling at us during some of its more erratic moments. We had wished to reach the Billabong Creek by dusk, but at last regarded it as hopeless. Then a loud shrieking laugh burst out of the bush on our left. It was the vespers of the jackass-birds — a hideous discordant chorus. When this batch finished, another family of them took it up, a little further off; then anotlier further still, and another, and yet another, till the laughs died away in the distance. Then came the faint tinkle of a bell, nearer and nearer, till at last we met a cloud of dust, out of which evolved a bullock-dray and driver. "Far from Billabong?" "No; a few miles." On again, poor sweaty, dusty team, and tired dusty passengers ; there's a chance for you yet ; and there's the moon just shining over the tree toj^s ; and there, oh happiness ! is a light glimmer- ing ahead. Here at last is the solitary settler's house. Invis- ible dogs bark and howl at us from every point of the compass. We knock ! — silence — there is no one at home. We hitch the horses up to a cattle-pen, and wait the arrival of the folks. On the other side of the creek a large fire is blazing, and round it a number of Wagga Wagga men, who have recently been driv- ing bullocks to Melbourne, and are now returning after six weeks' journey. They come to the creek-side and prav across to us for only one thing — they want but little here below, and that little is butter, which we feelingly throw over to them in a piece of paper. By the light of the moon we see two women approaching the house ; questioning them, we find they have visitors, and can only accommodate the ladies. The males " camp out " — a romantic and manly feat in this clear, fine weather. We put the horses into a pen ; then make a tent close by with a sheet of canvas, spreading a couch of straw and rushes, and covering them over 'vith rugs and cushions from the coach. This makes an airy bcv "oom, and the moon shines brilliantly through the sheeting. Oppressed with a general sense of quietness and straw flavour, and soothed by a lullaby of tail-whisking and hay-munching at our ears, we fall asleep, but are rudely awakened next minute by Patrick, who tells us to get up. It is five o'clock a.m. — " next minute " has lengthened to seven long hours. It is still dark ; the moon is low down on the horizon ; the morning is cold and raw ; and there is a brisk fire with a billy on it — our breakfast. We seize I :hing the mified it sve could its more Billabong Then a . It was it chorus, k it up, a ither, and e. Then at last we -dray and les." On issengers ; tst shining t glimnier- ,e. Invis- ; compass. : hitch the oiks. On d round it been driv- after six )Y^v across elow, and them in a ^vo women they have feat in this then make couch of cushions I the moon ;d with a )thed by a rs, we fall [.trick, who lUte" has le moon is raw ; and We seize ^Vagga Wagga. 65 the opportunity of the remaining moonlight to water the horses in the creek — not by any means an easy job, two of them escap- ing up the opposite bank, and keeping us breathless till they come back neighing for their companions. The moon has now given place to a feeble streak of daylight, and we are greeted by the mocking laugh of the jackass-birds, this time put to the blush by a civilised cock, who crows a most prodigious blast. As we depart we wave a mute farewell to our Wagga friends across the creek, whose fire by this time is faint and flickering. This day is like the last, dull and fatiguing. We have a midday camp as before, and a weary drive in the after- noon. We meet a man about five in the evening, who tells us we are three miles from Wagga. We hurry on, crossing a wooden bridge spanning the Murrumbidgee, and in the twink- ling o^an eye we are in the main street of the town amidst cheerily-lighted shops and a Saturday-night pavement crowd. AVagga Wagga lies midway between Melbourne and Sydney, and is the metropolis of a wilderness. It is absolutely isolated from any, even the smallest township. Albury lies ninety miles bouth, Gundagai sixty-five miles east. Hay is the nearest township to the westward, but it is distant 140 miles as the crow flies ; while northward there exists nothing but scattered settlements, with which there is no regular com- munication whatever. A person wonders at a town existing in such a lonely part of the country, but it is in reality an emporium for the convenience of the wealthy squatters resid- ing in the neighbourhood. North, south, east, and west their large tracts of country run, the richest and most extensive in the colony; and it is quite refreshing to get hold of some enthusiastic inhabitant of Wagga, and hear him roll off the thousands of acres possessed by Mr Black, and the miles of territory owned by Mr White. The wives and daughters of these rich landowners make inroads into Wagga Wagga upon the receipt of the latest fashions from Melbourne or Sydney ] while their lords and masters support local races, public balls, meetings, and charitable entertainments. There are some fine churches in the town — the Church of England, Wesleyan, and Presbyterian, having each a place of woiship. Besides the places of worship, there are other public I buildings. There is the Masonic Hall, said to be the largest concert-room out of Melbourne, with a sumptuous proscenium, \ and a stage loaded with scenery. There are, however, scarcely [any seats, and persons using the hall are compelled to place 'f iflfiFi ■ i' i ■ , ^^'"1 ■ ■• ■ f ■ 1 1 'i \ i ■ 1 ; hi : '1 h\ i i U, 1} I i 1 I I ■ 66 Kennedys Colonial Travel. ?i planks over barrels, boxes, and brandy cases — a style of seat- ing very laughable in such a pretentious structure. Another public building, which is among the " lions " shown to the visitor, is the hut once inhabited by the Tichbome claimant. The mean-looking hovel, now rented by a tinsmith, is jammed in between a larger shanty and a public-house in one of the by-streets. As a matter of course, you find the usual persons who parasitically attach themselves to famous or notorious characters. Smith knew the Claimant, and so did Grazing Tommy ; Bilkins supped with him, and Wilkins drank with him ; Barber Brown had his butcher meat from him for years ; Robinson worked with him for months on end ; as for Jones, you might almost say he lived with him ; and, in fact, they all knew him, and a rare good fellow he was. It would 'Surprise even "Tichborne" himself to know the number of bosom friends he left in Wagga Wagga. On the way to Gundagai we were kindly invited by a squatter to spend the night at his house. Our journey from this station next morning was one of the most dangerous we had yet ex- perienced. The private path leading to the main road had never been travelled by a coach and horses before, and ought never to have been, for the country was altogether unfit for conveyances of any sort. Deep gullies, rocky precipitous banks, and morasses covered with long waving grass followed each other in constant succession. At one time the wheels were covered almost over the axles with mud and water, and at another the coach was tilting on one of numerous acute sidelings; while the steep gullies would send vehicle and horses bundling together into awkward narrow creeks, which neces- sitated vigorous struggles to regain terra firma. This lasted for a number of miles, during which our driver Patrick coolly whistled his Irish airs, though he confessed afterwards to being somewhat frightened. Gundagai is an extraordinarily clean-looking place, perched upon a hill-side, looking down upon some flats. These were marked with deep furrows caused by the heavy trunks of trees borne down by the floods. The flats are crossed by a bridge, three-quarters of a mile long, including the approaches upon either side. This bridge, which cost ;!^45,ooo, connects North and South Gundagai, and is much appreciated in the winter time, when the water rises to the level of the footpath. Gundagai as at present seen is Gundagai No. 2 — Gundagai No. I, which was situated upon these flats, having been totally '. iuL The Funeral of an Explorer. 67 destroyed by a fearful flood in 1852. A young squatter here gave us a reminiscence of the calamity. " It was an awful time," said he. "My father acted as minister of the place, and read the burial service over forty-five persons. Our house only escaped by a miracle. We had to stand on the window-sill with poles, and stave off the big trees and rubbish. But the logs kept battering against the house, and letting in the water. For a long time we could hear the chairs and tables washing about inside, and our grand piano bumping in every direction. Then after a bit the house fell away piecemeal, and it was all we could do to escape with our lives." Yass, another town further east, was reached by a weary, weary drive of two days. There was no incident to lighten the journey, save when we came suddenly upon a large open glade covered thickly over with a dense flock of cockatoos, chattering away in undisturbed seclusion. When we broke in upon them, they rose in a large white cloud, circling and shrieking, and latterly flew to the shelter of the forest, where they clustered thick as orange blossom on the trees. Yass is built upon the borders of Yass Plains, a series of undulating downs, covered with rich grass, which, when we saw it, was somewhat browned by the sun. The sights of the town are its fine public buildings, the River Yass, and the great iron bridge which spans the river. The town is now fully fifty years old, and has that settled appearance which age of necessity brings. This half-a- century existence is unknown south of the Murray, and was a new thing to us. The first person who travelled Yass Plains was Hamilton Hume, the explorer ', he discovered this portion of the country during his famous expedition. For many years he resided in quiet seclusion at Yass, spending his old age in a neat rustic cottage, fondly pointed out to strangers by the inhabitants, who entertained for him high esteem and reverence. Strange to say, the moment we were entering Yass, the funeral of the venerable explorer was leaving it for the cemetery, which lay outside the town. The hearse was followed by forty vehicles, buggies, farmers' carts, light waggons, and carriages, belonging to doctors, squatters, hotel-keepers, shop-keepers, and tradesmen generally, the rear of the procession being brought up by a hundred horsemen, riding in couples, and representing even more fully every class of society, from the rough uncultivated bushman to the landed aristocrat. The spectacle was one of great interest, and approached the historical. Most of the ' ■i5. \ \ i J '; i I } i;t it h|i| 1 i. i \ ■ ij 1 ! if ii ! i ^ I 'I 68 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. shops in the town were shut up, and the place altogether was straining every nerve to show respect. A day's journey brought us to Goulburn, where we took the train to Sydney, a journey of 130 miles. All night we went booming over bridges, thundering through tunnels, and dashing between cuttmgs ninety feet high. The day dawns upon a landscape of villas and old-established houses. On we go, past chimney-stalks, manufactories, straggling streets, and stray steeples ; through suburban stations, with busy porters and early business men. At last we see through morning mist a grey expanse of houses, and in a few moments are landed at the Sydney station. This ended our six weeks' overland trip, during which we travelled over 500 miles. Ui CHAPTER VI. SYDNEV AND SYDNEY HARBOUR. Sydney, the capital of the vast colony of New South Wales, is eighty-eight years old. The first expedition landed in 1788, and chose the now world-famed Botany Bay as the site of the new settlement. Port Jackson, however, was afterwards found more suitable, which can readily be believed, as no better har- bour has been discovered in the colonies. Entering from the sea, you pass through the Heads, two high precipitous cliffs, the southern point crowned by a lighthouse. The sea rolls through, and .breaks on a headland inside. The steamer you are in appears to be running upon the rocks, when the South Head moves past and discloses the full sweep of the harbour to the left, the view more resembling the windings of some mighty river than the ramifications of an inlet of the sea. After steam- ing for four miles you arrive opposite Sydney, which lies on the southern shore, street rising above street, with spires and steeples, — the water's edge lined with high warehouses, Government buildings, and Customs offices, which are almost hidden by the dense fringe of shipping along the quays and wharves. Sydney is three and a half miles long, and three miles wide. The population, inclusive of the suburbs, is 134,758. George Street and Pitt Street are the chief thoroughfares, and were named after George HI. and his Prime Minister. They run parallel with each other, and are intersected by King, Hunter, and Market Streets. Generally speaking, the thoroughfares of Sydney are narrow, cramping the traffic and crowding foot- passengers. "Yes, yes," a citizen said to us, "our streets are no doubt far from wide, but see the advantage in point of shade!" You feel nervous about the wheels of your vehicle, or the legs of your horse if you are riding. On the pavements of Pitt Street, you are either elbowing plate-glass windows or slipping off the kerb-stones. George Street is far more modem in appearance, and has a newer portion of commendable width. You feel the buildings would show to better advantage if you ? t ! i ir Hi 70 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. could get a few feet further from them; they ahvays seem to overshadow you. Sydney is a condensed city. The narrow- ness of the streets is perhaps to be accounted for by the practical, matter-of-fact nature of the first settlement, and the limiting influence of the water-frontage, the city being built upon a kind of peninsula, surrounded by indentations of the harbour. There are portions of Sydney that remind the stranger of familiar home streets; terraces and blocks of buildings that resemble the older fashionable squares of London or Edinburgh ; while some of the by-streets are long, narrow, tortuous, and dirty, full of anticjuated houses, with flights of coarse boulder-like steps. We took lodgings in Wynyard Square, a locality of boarding- houses, boarding-hotels, and white-porched private dwellings. Our landlady was as smirking as possible, with excessively fashion- able daughters. She was generally agreeable, but upon any dis- paraging remark being made as to the size or quality of chop or steak, she flared up as to her high birth, and wondered what her ancestors would have thought of this keeping of boarders ! We have not been long in Sydney before we bestir ourselves for sight-seeing. The first building that strikes us is the fine new Post-Ofiice, with its high granite-pillared front. Then we walk along George Street, passing giant warehouses, large insurance ofiices, and the chief hotels of the city. We come to a wider portion of the thoroughfare, near the market. Here there is life. We see a stream of traffic, with every description of vehicle. We see a blind man groping along with outstretched palm, and a card, " Sight lost by blast in gold mine ; " a man selling sixpenny maps of New South Wales ; boys shouting the daily papers, " 'Airuld " and " Empi-i-re ! " and a manual fire- engine, " No. 2," hauled by one horse, going off" to some smoky chimney. What a splendid structure that is on our right, with a lofty symmetrical tower ! " Boy, what is the name of this large building?" " Tow Nail, sir." The Town Hall? This then is the pride of Sydney, the theme of every one's conversa- tion. It has a good deal of confectionery ornament about it, and no massiveness, but is possessed of great beauty. Look ! a heavily-built fashionable carriage rumbles past, a relic of a bygone generation ; then a neat private two-horse carriage ; hullo, it's a hackney cab, a cab for hire ! how clean and tidy it looks ! See ! would you recognise in that fresh, shining, new- cushioned, hansom-cab, your old friend the London convey- ance ? No ; not a bit of it. We meet a Scotsman, an official in the Mint, who takes us through the building. Passing an t The Sydney Mint. 71 nrmed patrol at the door, we enter the furnace-room, where we are as interested as chemical smells will allow us. In another department, machines flatten bars of gold into thin plates, which are then punched into circular unstamped coin. We see one man take a pot full of sovereigns from the annealing furnace, cool them in water, and dry them in a sieve of sawdust. Some of the pieces fall out and roll into corners, but he takes no notice, and goes on shaking the remainder. There are no cracks in the floor. Another man sits at the die-press with a fortune in a tray, and some hundreds of blank coins in a drawer beside him. We are quite bewildered in this room with elaborate machines — machines that seem to think — machines with long brass fingers that poise the sovereigns, weigh them, and drop them into one of three openings, " light," " heavy," and " true." Strange to say, with all the improvements, ten to fifteen per cent, of the sovereigns have to be re-melted, and fifty to seventy per cent, of the half-sovereigns. The Scotsman who shows us round mentions that the workmen are of good character, and treat the gold as an ordinar)' metal. He spoils the sentiment, however, by immediately proving to us the impossibility of any of the hands stealing. They each get a certain amount of gold to operate upon, accompanied with a slip of paper stating the purpose and value. This slip the workman returns to the office, along with the exact weight of gold in sovereigns or otherwise. Those of the men whose work causes necessarily an escape of gold-dust have half-an- hour allowed them to sweep the floor and make up their weight. Then we drive out to Randwick, a suburb, where we go through the Asylum for Destitute Children, an institution which stands on an elevated airy site. We see ward after ward, and row after row, of clean little white beds ; view a host of young folks at dinner ; hear the capital band of the institution playing in the quadrangle garden ; walk into the hot-smelling kitchen, savoury with immense soup, beef, and vegetable cauldrons ; and finish ou'' visit at the playground — a swarming jubilant scene of jollity and gymnastics. There is a splendid race- course at Randwick, much patronized by the governor, Sir Hercules Robinson. In the evening we visit the School of Arts in Pitt Street — an institution possessing an exhaustive library, an extensive reading- room, and a capacious hall, in which latter we sang for seven weeks in Sydney. Going down the street about eleven o'clock I ; i I 1 !■ 'i t: \l i ; t , iii ■i 72 Kcinicdvs Colonial Travel. at night, wc sec ai)ul)lic-houscancl oyster-saloon still open, with a vagrant band i)laying in front, the gaslight sending the shadows of the i)erformers looming up against the closed windows and shutters of the buildings across the way. Tinning from Pitt Street to (leorge Street, we come into a quieter neigh- bourhood — no flaring taverns, no open shops. We see a dim cab-rank, with the dark figure of a pcrched-up driver dozing over his hansom — a phantom policeman statues{iue at a corner — a spectre bill sticker putting up on a dead wall the sheets of a large poster; and a string of sailors, arm in arm, spread over the pavement, shouting cai)stan choruses. There are 120 churches in Sydney. Our lodgings were close to Church Hill, a rising ground, owing its name to the number of sacred edifices clustered round it. Every Sunday morning bells rang out in great variety of tone. One chime, about ten o'clock, ere the other peals sot in, floated out sonorously the melodies of psalm and hymn tunes. Of the Presbyterian churches Dr Lang's is the oldest — the " Scots Kirk," as it is called, an ancient building with a stunted short spire and a very uncomfortable interior. The foundation-stone was laid on the 30th November 1833. Dr Steele's church is an iron one, made and used in Glasgow, then exported to Sydney. The Rev. Mr Thomson's church is well built and very spacious ; but as the worthy clergyman had lately been created the Principal of a newly-formed St Andrew's College, Dr Steele preaches in his stead, the two congregations uniting in the more substantial building. The town churches are not so flourishing as one would expect. People say the congregations have drifted to the suburbs. The Rev. Dr M'Gibbon's church in Wooloomoo- loo had been recently built to accommodate the outlying popu- lation, and has been so far successful. There is, too, a healthy congregation in Balmain, under the Rev. Mr Cosh, a spirited worker, lately missionary in the South Sea Islands. AVe were invited by the veteran Dr Lang to take tea with him, and we had a most interesting evening. We were carried away back in the annals of Australia. The Doctor's talk was of a bygone generation — of the early strifes, politics, separa- tions, Parliaments, and Governors of the colonies. He came to Sydney in the month of May 1823, and ever since has identified himself with New South Wales ; the review of his career would almost be that of the colony. He has been in Parliament, and mixed in the heat of politics ; he resigned his seat in the Legislative Assembly about the close of 1872. loomoo- Tlic Public Gardens of Sydney. 73 The separations of Victoria in 185 1, and Queensland in 1859, were a great deal due to the unflagging energy of Dr Lang, who has also been foremost in the cause of immigration. Though an old man over seventy, he still takes part in i)ublic affairs, and is now preparing a fresh edition of his excellent History of Naai South Wales, one of the numerous works he has written on the colonies. On Sunday evening we went to St Andrew's Cathedral, Church of England, situated in (leorge Street, where we heard a most excellent service. In King Street is a dingy brick building, one of the most fashionable places of worship in Sydney — St James's Church, to which I saw the Governor and his lady driving in an open carriage. Pitt Street boasts a large Independent Chapel, which has a poi)ular preacher and a crowded attendance, the body of the church and the immense gallery that surrounds it being always densely thronged. The public parks of Sydney are unequalled. Hyde Park is a reserve of some forty acres almost in the centre of the town, adorned with a statue of Captain Cook, the foundation-stone of which was laid by the Duke of Edinburgh. The more recently-formed reserves are the Prince Alfred Park, Belmore Park, and Moore Park, the latter occupying 500 acres to the south-east. A short time ago this j^ark was legally reclaimed to the town by a Mr Moore, then mayor of Sydney, the land having been regarded as the property of an influential capitalist. The Domain is a charming piece of ground, 138 acres in extent, on the banks of an inlet entitled Farm Cove. The Botanical Gardens, close to it, have been established for thirty- five years. Tliey are positively lovely, with their bewildering profusion of palms, bananas, cactuses, fern-trees, and an infinite variety of tropical plants. Tasteful gravel walks wind about the grounds and skirt the dark blue waters of the little bay. Really a place to dream in, on a sunny day, under the shadows of the Ijroad-leafed vegetation ; with perhaps a trick- ling fountain on one hand, a rustic bridge on the other, and avenues stretching away before you to still further shady seclusion. As to Sydney Harbour, the praises of it rang in our ears when we first landed in the colonies, and we heard accounts of it from all sources in all kinds of places. We soon went to see the much-talked-of wonder. At first we craned our necks from the top-storey window of our lodgings, but we could only see a small triangular patch of water almost filled up with the masts , I { if la i \ . i : !ri . I 's •^•Kv»a« -,f««*»*i— » *- If I K 111 i; ifl 74 Kcntiedys Colonial Travel. and yards of ships. And yet our landlady claimed a View. Every hotel and lodging-house, if it commands but a speck of water, pd\'ertises a View. We even saw one or two houses overlookin-^ the harbour on tiptoe — that is, with about twelve feet ot soiid masonry as a foundation, and the front door reached by a narrow flight of steps. In Melbourne, people demand your opinion of the city. In Sydney they ask, "What do you think of the Situation ?" Had it a political significance they would not ask it with more earnestness. "What about the situation? Have you been down to the harbour to get the View ? Have you bceii right up to the tip-top of the lighthouse and seen the View ? Have you been over to the North Shore and gazed at the View? Have you been in one of our steam ferry-boats and seen the View?" A sail round the harbour and a pic-nic in one of its hundred pleasure grounds ! What could be more deliglitful ? A kind, attentive Sydney friend proposed and projected this, getting logether an enjoyable company of folks, and chartering a small steam laur -li of ten tons burthen, which one forenoon awaited us at a convenient point of Darling Harbour, on the western side of the town. The sky was clear, with not the faintest fleck of cloud — a state of the atmosphere very common in this part of the world, almost worth travellhig 12,000 miles to see. I believe it would pay Mr Cook to project Excursions to the Blue Skies of Australia and Back. The water also was a deep blue, not only afar off", but blue even to where i': lapped the stone steps of the quay ; dipping it up with your hand., you almost felt disappointed to find it colourless. After we had seated ourselves on the cushioned seats in the stern of the launch, the fore-part was loaded with boxes of provisions. We went up as far as Cockatoo Island, famous for its Fitzroy Diy Dock; a Government establishment for overhauling and repairing vessels, v/here we saw a French man-of-war on the stocks. Then we turned eastward again, passing Dawes Point, with its battery of a few guns ; Sydney Cove, with its important circular quay, 3100 feet long, constructed by convict labour ; and Farm Cove, a charming bay, backed by the Botanical Gardens and the elegant residence of the Governor. Here were a number of small craft fitting out for the suppression of tlie slave trade in the South Sea Islands. Passing " Lady Macquarie's Chair," a stone seat carved out of the solid rof:!-:, we sailed through Watson's Bay ; then doubled the rocky point on which the sea breaks commg through the Heads, an I ! 11 Sydney Harbojir. n cursions so was lapped md; you we had of the |)visions. Fitzroy ing and on the Dawes with its convict by the )vernor. )ression " Lady d roc:!-:, rocky Heads, once the scene of a terrible shipwreck, with no survivors. Our little steamer tumbled about here, but we soon got into smooth water in the Middle Harbour, the high-wooded banks of which resembled the scenery of the River Hudson in America. We had a glimpse of Manly Beach, styled by Sydney folks " the Brighton of Australia," and Clontarf, the pleasure-garden where the Duke of Edinburgh was shot by O'Farrell — our sail conclud- ing in Pearl Bay, where the steamer rasped and grounded some distance from the shore. A boat came off and took the ladies round a projecting point. Then one of the gentlemen swam about, viewed the situation, and got on the rock along with a brother sansculotte. Both set to work pushing off, those on board canting the vessel over, till at last the launch slid away, one of the gentlemen clinging to the gunwale, and the other being left a knee-deep, melancholy, shivering white figure. When the boat came, he was right glad to be relieved, as for most of tlie time he had been standing on oysters. Safely landed, -^'i beheld a table on shore spread with every imaginable delicacy — a sumptuous feast, which was discussed amid laughs over our adventure, exclamations as to the beauty of the day, and admiration of the lonely loveliness of the scenery. After three ringing cheers for our host, we all got on board again, arriving at Sydney in the twilight. On a later occasion we went round the harbour fortifications, constructed after the p^^ns of Sir William Denison. There are two batteries on the Middle Head, with seven 68-pounders at a height of 107 feet ; at Bmdley's Head there are three guns at a height of ninety feet, and at another point six guns at a height of 200 feet. These are on the northern shore, but there are also fortifications near the South Head, with long sunken trenches of masonry for the safety of the gunners. Nor must we forget the walks around the harbour. The best of these is the South Head Road, which takes high ground and leads to the lighthouse, following the windings of the bays — a nice, smooth, red, sandy road — commanding the unsurpassable View. There is another walk down by the shore from Sydney Cove to WooUoomooloo Bay, constructed by order of Lady Macquarie about the beginning of the century, almost equal to the former road in point of beauty. A third walk can be had in the Domain close to the town. The South Head Road is for an extended airy horse-ride, Lady Macquarie's walk for a stroll, and the Domain for a fashionable drive. Oh, the strolls, the ' ! .' ! 1 76 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. rides, the drives ! — leaving the smoke, noise, and crowd of the city, and in a few minutes breathing suburban air on the heights around Port Jackson, with the endless minute beauties of the harbour combined into one grand picture. Before you stretch lovely bays, rimmed with beaches of dark yellow sand — miniature capes, headlands, and peninsulas, furry with shrubbery or velvety with lawns. Elegant mansions are shining out in the strong sunlight — the water is smooth and dotted with vessels, some being tugged out to the Heads, some sailing in under easy canvas, some lying moored off the different points of land. The harbour is spacious, but you have never the idea of a bare expanse of water. The opposite shore is always near. You can recognise this house and that house — you can see horsemen riding and vehicles running — you can almost distinguish the peopb stepping into the ferry-boats. One sunny afternoon a gentleman drove us down to the Domain, and upon reaching a part overlooking " Lady Mac- quarie's dair," he drew up and sat silent. Other vehicles arrived, and the folks ogled one another, looking deeply inter- ested. We asked what it all meant, and were told this was the " gazing place of the fashionables," where they assemble in fine weather, and take stock of each other while ostensibly viewing the harbour. There is one thing you make note of before you have been three days in Sydney — the number of middle-aged people who have been reared in the colony, whose fathers were born in it. Considering the length of time that New South Wales has been established, there is nothing strange in this ; but it seems pecu- liar after experience of Melbourne, whore nearly every mature man carries about wuh him the date of his arrival in Australia- Walking Sydney streets you miss the Chinese flavour in the crowd ; John seems to have no foothold, no opening for his specialities as in Melbourne. You see a preponderance of the Jewish cast of countenance. In Sydney, also, there is an old establislied criminal class, which Melbourne, being a younger city, does not possess. This sediment, this vicious substrata of society, is very appreciable, both in the streets and in police reports ; a Sydney crowd can nmster its roughs with any place we have seen. There is one deplorable character to be met with, the "larrikin," who is indigenous to the colonies gener- ally, though Melbourne is more particularly his home. He is a wild youih, a creature bred by the absence of parental con- trol — a lower-class youth, but not necessarily very poor, very I The Suburbs of Sydney. 77 ^vretched, or very young. You would not know him if I were to call him a street arab, a rowdy, or one of the "great un- washed." Like some foreign phrases, he is untranslatable. His misdeeds are unique, and excel those of inebriated medical students in bygone days. The larrikins, in gangs of twenty and thirty, break street-lamps, wrench off knockers, tear down fences, mob and maltreat policemen, hustle respectable people at noon-day, and at night assault some sober citizen and rob him. Taken in a mouthful, this reads like exaggeration, but scarce a week passes without some larrikin outbreak. Even while writing these Imes, I see by the newspapers that a band of youths in Maryborough, Queensland, broke through the windows of a schoolroom, smashed up the forms and desks, split up every penholder with a knife, poured the ink bottles over the maps, ripped up the large globes, and did damage to the amount of ^{^40 sterling. The larrikin nuisance has become a deep social question. Sydney folks delight in holiday-making. We were in Sydney on the Queen's Birthday, and beheld the people in their pleasure-garb. We seem to see yet the smiling faces, the gay dresses, the baskets of provisions, the good humour of the crowds wending their way to the steamboats or packing them- selves into omnibuses. Steamers moved in and out, freighted with their hundreds. The ships in the harbour fluttered with flags — cannon fired from the batteries — church bells rang — banners waved from the hotels and public buildings. Crowded vehicles were driving off to Botany Bay, Bondi, or Coogee Bay., with hampers of eatables roped behind. Horsemen and pedes- trians were travelling to see the grand review of 1700 volunteers in Moore Park. Sydney went out of town in a whirl of gaiety. There are eleven suburbs. Newtown, Glebe, Waterloo, Redfern, and Woolloomooloo are situated close to Sydney, and connected with it by ligaments of streets. Balmain is a high picturesque suburb, occupying a point of land, with streets sloping dovm to the harbour, and peopled chiefly by the middle classes. The principal work here is Mort's dry dock, 365 feet long, and 70 feet wide, which employs, with a large shipbuilding yard, nearly 800 men. The other suburbs are Paddington, two miles east, possessing the large Victoria Barracks; Randwick, with its race- course and asylum; Camperdown, three miles up the Parramatta Road; Burwood, a railway station six miles distant ; and Hunter's Hill, a fashionable resort on the Parramatta River. Parramatta, distant fifteen miles from the metropolis, is too i viu ■■■ I ; 11 n ! 1 ( ^ IS ! ! iJ 11 'f ' 11. i it i ^ i I r 78 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. far off to be considered a suburb, even if it had not a municipal and historical importance. It is an old town, settled in 1790 under the title of Rose Hill. The town lies in a hollow sur- rounded by low knolls. The streets are wide, the houses old, and the whole place quaint. Not a few spires are visible, some new, some ancient, and about the oldest is the square-built castellated tower of the Presbyterian Church, a plain building with a good congregation. The hotel we lived at was a family hotel. Tropical plants surrounded the house, and a rich orange tree was pushing its way into our bedroom window. And talking of oranges, who has not heard of the golden fruit of Parramatta ? The orange groves are a sight to see — long straight rows of small trees speckled with flaring yellow fruit, drawing down the boughs with their abundance, and fxlling the air with fragrance — the oranges delicious to look at, but still more pleasant to be plucked fresh from the tree, and tasted in all their pure beady juiciness. In Sydney we were favoured at first with fine weather. Then came a change — gloomy days, rainy nights, accounts of floods, coach accidents, and delayed mails. This was followed by bright skies again. And r>o the pleasant days wore on, till we left the old, grey, historical, rapidly-modernising city, and sailed for Brisbane. 1 i 'f ii !• ! i^ . [i 1 1 ij 1' ■ ! 1 ■ . {jR| iw' 1 1; * ., y CHAPTER VII. I5RISBANE THE WILDS OF QUEENSLANP —THE GYMPIE GOLD FIELD — THE (QUEENSLAND BLACKS. ;H ,1M In July of 1873, we sailed from Sydney to Brisbane. Steam- boat life is the same here as at home. You have the same close cabins and saloon, the same red velvet-cushioned seats, the same sickly-smelling zinc-covered stairs, the same stokers, and the same broad-speaking Glasgow engineer — but not the same captain. The Australian skipper is a distinct species of being — there is nothing at all sailor-like in his appearance. When you have singled out from the crowd on the wharf some stout florid commercial traveller, and said to yourself, " That is the captain," behold ! a meagre gentleman in a black coat, a white shirt-front, a coloured necktie, and a straw hat, steps on board and shouts his orders to the un-nautical crew. You are also astonished at the mate, with his trim suit, trim whiskers, rings, and gold chain, and you are equally amazed at being served by stewards with elegant moustaches and hair parted do'v.n the middle. Sydney to Brisbane is a distance of 500 miles, which took us fifty-four hours — not a very high rate of speed. We left at six o'clock in the evening, and rose in the morning to a fine sea- picture. The sky was blue and cloudless. The scenery was bold and mountainous. The coast warj outlined in foam. The green seas were breaking upon the shore, washing and swirling round the rocks, climbing up the shaded sides of the cliffs, and bursdng in the sunshine on the summit into clear masses of spray. Scores of porpoises leapt about the ship — an exciting, inspirit- ing scene. The journey on the whole was pleasant, and the passengers agreeable. We became acquainted with a young Melbourne gentleman, and contrived to pass the time with him in interesting discussions. His doctrines, however, were some- what unique, and he maintained his views in a lofty philan- thropical manner, supporting his arguments as if they were so many paupers. Between us we effectually disposed of the ;■: '! I,,!, Mi 1: ii 11 FTr" 80 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. ! Sli National Debt, the Land Question, and the Divine Right of Kings. The captain was genial, though at table he proved himself a perfect Munchausen, pouring into unsuspecting ears the most absurd improbabilities — all, too, with such an air of candour that it threw folks off their guard. We had heard of his powers ere we came on board, but he almost managed to hoodwink us with his fictions while apparently busied in some- thing else — handling his knife and fork, or crumbling a piece of bread — his most flagrant efforts being made under cover of reaching for the cruet-stand. He commenced telling us in his usual offhand ways : " Fine flavour this tea — best tea I've tasted for weeks — (a sardine, steward !) — it was lucky I got it as I did — the Marquis of Normandy, Queensland Governor, you know, had — (a-hem, hem ! something in my throat, I think !) — had ordered a large quantity of it from Hong Kong — the finest Bohea, mind you (another cup, Williams) — he bought more than the family could use ; so (I'll take the butter, please) — so I got three chests of the tea from the Marquis, and — and " " Ah, captain," said we, shaking half a dozen remonstrative fingers — " ah, captain, how could you?" He gravely winked, and answered in a whisper — "Gentlemen, you've found me out, but — but — you'd wonder how many believe me ! " During the rest of the time the captain devoted himself to a convalescent English curate and his brother, giving them a comic account of the coast — how Smoky Cape got its name from the fumigation of a cave full of escaped convicts — how the Solitary Islands were inhab- ited each by one man — how Cape Byron was so called because a relation of the poet Wordsworth lived there — and how Point Danger, strange to say, was the safest promontory on the coast, with other facts that eventually opened the eyes of the two mild people. In time we sighted the Dividing Range, the border-line be- tween New South Wales and Queensland, with Mount Warning in the foreground, a sharp fantastic peak 3833 feet high. A few hours afterwards we sailed into Moreton Bay, the entrance to the River Brisbane — a wide expanse of water, which formerly gave its name to this large district. The More ion Bay District became Queensland upon the separation, from New South Wales. On this occasion we sailed up to Brisbane in the evening, but subsequently we came through the bay by daylight, steering through a long double line of black and red beacons, passing a large training-ship for the irregular youth of Queens- ^i '. Brisbane. 8l land, and viewing the island of St Helena, a convict station so called in bygone days when a black, by name Napoleon, was put on it for some offence. We did not get this fact from the captain ! The River Brisbane is very broad and winding, and narrows very imperceptibly. High banks stretch up on either side, with green and yellow squares of cultivation, and occasional patches of sugar or tobacco. Nearing Brisbane, you have numerous views of its suburbs. While you are admiring th^^ prospect, there is an abrupt turn, and a high knoll interposes itself. Soon there is a break in the river-banks, and the houses re-appear in quite a different direction altogether. Again a high slope glides past, and again the houses pop in sight, looking as when you first saw them. Then the vessel swings round, and the suburbs disappear behind four or five hundred yards of dull lifeless banks. These taper down, and we have more windings and more glimpses — glimpses ahead, astern, and abeam, till finally we steam round Kanga- roo Point, a sharp elbow of the river, and come in view of the metropolis. Brisbane, the capital of Queensland, lies twenty-five miles from the mouth of the river. It is a new-looking town, with fine wide streets. There are four divisions — North and South Brisbane, separated by the river ; Kangaroo Point, a small peninsula formed by an eccentric turn of the stream ; and Fortitude Valley, a suburb to the eastward — the total population being 20,000. The chief street has an irregular sky-line, few of the buildings being alike in size or structure. But there are many fine stores and warehouses. From the verandah of the Royal Hotel we have a good view of the town. Immediately opposite stands the gleaming white post-office, surmounted by a gilt-lettered transparent dial and a small peal of bells. Next to it, the police station, a low, white-washed building, with an interested crowd always hanging about. On the other side of it we 'see, over the new telegraph office, a cluster of masts and yards, the shipping on the river, with a flapping red pennant standing out against the green banks on the opposite side. To our right and left stretches Queen Street, the principal thoroughfare, with a cab rank in the middle, and Albert cars or Melbourne cabs flying up and down. We see, too, great numbers of blue and white sign-painted verandahs, a family iesemblance in them all. From the rear of our hotel we look across an array of back-yards and gardens, with waving banana- I : \ ■i \ \ ;i li ; ■•; , 1 i ^ \ \ 1 1 : 1 (, I 1 r 8 i ' PL I? f I 82 :i|i ;i |, , ; Kciuicdys Colonial Travel. trees. The street is busy with horsemen ; with big red coaches, rumbling to the post-office witli the mails ; and drays with twelve, fourteen, and in some cases twenty bullocks attached. Aboriginals, male and female, and Polynesians from some up- country sugar plantation, stroll about, with blue-striped trousers, short coats, and umbrellas ; while little boys are to be seen chewing away at sugar-cane, two and three feet long, using it as a walking-stick and eating the upper end. There is an hour in Brisbane when the elite of the town drive out; when Mr Acres, the squatter, leaves his private apartment in the hotel, and exhibits his landed self in a buggy ; when the Reverend Blank unpaddocks his horse, and canters round on visits ; when the fashionable father rides alongside his fashionable daughter; when Mr Innkeeper, Mr Grocer, and Mr Draper air their respective families in their several " sociables ; " and when every person is showily dressed, every horse sleek, and every vehicle speckless. The Parliament House is the grandest building in the city, a three-domed structure, which occupied seven years in its erection. A broad flight of steps, inlaid with mosaic work, leads up into the interior, the head of the staircase ornamented with a stained-glass Queen Victoria. The Upper House is an airy light-painted hall, with a blazing coat of arms at one end. The Lower House looks a trifle less sumptuous, the Speaker's chair, however, being an admirable specimen of colonial wood and colonial workmanship. The library, solely for the use of the members, is large. There is an ornamental glass case con- taining works relating to the late Prince Consort, presented by the Queen, who has with her own hand written the presentation pages. The Houses of Parliament overlook the Botanical Gardens. These form a pleasant walk by the riverside, and have one peculiar feature — a bamboo grove, which is really exquisite, the lofty bending stems meeting from either side and forming a leafy corridor. Scotsmen are very numerous in Brisbane, and we received much kindness from them both in public and private. We sang in the School of Arts, which has a fine capacious hall. There is also, in connection with it, an excellent library and reading-room, where, in addition to the English papers, you can read the latest expensive scientific work or fashionable novel, and see the leading illustrated papers of Britain, (Germany, and France. The river at Brisbane- is a quarter of a mile broad. Small y Early Struggles of Qiteenslaml. 83 ichcs, with .ched. le up- lusers, ; seen >ing it 1 hour en Mr hotel, verend ; when ighter; r their . when I every he city, 5 in its c work, .mented se is an ^ne end. :)eaker's al wood e use of Lse con- [nted by ;ntation lotanical [de, and Is really tide and received e. We |us hall. library papers, lionable [Britain, Small steamboats run to li)swi(:h, fifty miles further up, their large red churning stern-wheels giving life to the river. These, with sailing-barges and wood-rafts, make up the usual e very-day traffic. The Australian Steam Navigation Comi)any's steamers call in once or twice a-week, and occasionally ships from foreign ports, though these latter are generally of limited tonnage. The larger vessels have to lie outside the bar at the mouth of the river. At the west end of the town a massive iron girder-bridge crosses the river. It is almost finished, and will cost ^100,000. To have a satisfactory view of Brisbane and neighbourhood you must ascend the heights behind the town, from whence there is the full sweep of a verdant country, with near hills and the far-off shadowy peaks of the Dividing Range. You see tlie river winding towards you through the landscape, till it loses itself amidst the bright expanse of new painted fresh- looking buildings at your feet. Then, gliding past the palatial seat of Parliament, it glistens here and there in the gaps between the houses, twisting and turning away on your left, imbibing the full-flowing Breakfast Creek, and suddenly disappearing in (jne of its many windings to the sea. Both on the north and south sides of the river there are numerous charming walks — (juiet meditative nooks, rural roads, or busy streets — variety enough to please every one. We passed altogether a pleasant fortnight — the weather being generally mild, as befitted the winter month of July, with a noon-day glare of hot sun, to remind us of the semi-tropical climate. Brisbane is a flourishing town in every sense of the word. Nine out of ten houses are freehold, and there is a well-to-do appearance about the people. Tradesmen are confident, and the folks generally are hopeful. It is a really fine city, the capital of a young and thriving colony. Queensland, which for a time foiraed a northern district of New South Wales, did not come into separate existence till 1859. Like all growing settlements, it has had its difficulties, and these of no common kind. At first, it had a season of fictitious prosperity, flourish- ing on borrowed funds, precociously raising a national debt. But in 1866 there came a serious commercial crisis, paralysing trade, and creating a panic. People every morning scanned the newspapers for the latest failure. The affairs of the banks went into chaos, and no business was transacted. An "A. S. N." captain told us that, while collecting passage-money on the steam-boats, he had bundles of useless cheques lying on his Wi.n i !i • R 1 ' '11 1 "S , ; 1 i ) f 1.' i t i 1 ■ 1 i t i ! I ■1 i 1 . , 1 1^' ,i :! 84 Kennedy s Colonial Travel, hands, signed by persons " right as a trivot." All ended happily, however, for the banks paid up every farthing. In the midst of the crisis the public works stopped, and the Government railway extensions came to an abrupt close. Hundreds of labourers were discharged — crowds clamoured in the streets — half-starved people invaded butcher and baker, demanding meat and bread. Riots were feared, and the com- munity was in agitation and disorder ; when, in the nick of time, like the opening of a door to relief and safety, there broke out the great (Jympie gold diggings. Away north, uj) amongst the hills, rushed the starving hundreds, finding food and em])loyment, and forming the foundation of one of the most prosperous townships in the colony. This gold-rush, bringing miners from all portions of Australia, brought also a great addition to the Government revenue, and it would not be too much to say that Gympie saved Queensland from bank- ruptcy. Lately tin has been discovered in extraordinary rich- ness at Stanthorpe and other places in the southern districts. Coal and copper also have been found at different parts, awaiting larger development in the future. Nearly all kinds of grain are raised, and marly every species of fruit. Wool, the chief product, is grown on the famous Darling Downs and the wide western plains. Everything betokens prosperity. The infant colony has at length grown to a vigorous youth. It has had its juvenile ailments, commercial croup and monetary measles, but is now convalescent, and will advance to successful maturity. From Brisbane we went north to Gympie, the hardest four days' travelling we ever had in Australia. We still possessed our coach and team of horses, having shipped them with us from Sydney. About six in the morning we left the Royal Hotel, with something like a cheer from the stableman and waiter. During the whole of the day we had a weary, lonely bush road. Forty-three miles out, and^ towards evening, we reached a way- side inn, kept by a Perth woman. Here we had every atten- tion and every possible comfort, for she was a "real nice body," and bustled about in a heart-warming Scottish fashion. The house had a fine situation. Standing outside, we looked across the road — then across a paddock filled with horses — then across a creek running through a small gully — then over a black sea of tree-tops, till we saw, rising sheer from the sur- rounding country, two strange isolated purple peaks, lit up in the bright sunset — one a naked cliff, the other a precipice \ The Wilds of Qiurus/aud. H grafted upon the summit of a hill. They can Ijo seen far out at sea. The name of (llass Mountains was given to them by Cai)tain Cook. On the second day of our journey the road was rougher and the scenery grander. The vegetation was more tropical in apjiearance, with luxuriant growth near the creeks. A passage in many i)laces had been cut through the dense scrub, and once or twice, while resting the liorses, we tried to gro])e our way through the prickly maze but failed. On each side of us rose high banks surmounted by lofty trees, which towered up like walls. Coach and horses seemed to dwarf as we passed through this precipitous vegetation. The air was filled with forest fragrance. The thickset, straight, ta])ering timber was inter- woven with parasites, like natural trellis-work, with long leafy tendrils trickling down from a great height. On every side flourished the iron-bark, blue-gum, Moreton Bay jjine, and the Bunya Bunya pine — the latter a splendid tree, rising to the height of 150 feet. There were bushes, too, with blue, yellow, and red blossoms. Birds whistled, some of them with quaint songs, one having great resemblance to a vigorous kiss or " smack." Just l)efore reaching the mountainous portion of the journey some rain fell, creating a steamy marshy smell. V\'e had to walk for many miles this second day, urging the horses three yards at a time up the long hills. " Folks gener- ally swear here," said Patrick with an air of information, at the foot of a formidable ascent — " a good long oath ; it makes the horses go better." No doubt ; but — hum — we could never think — ahem! of — The very thing ! use the names of Scotch songs. We started up the hill. " Jo-o-ohn Grumlie !" shouted one ; " Ye Banks and Bra-a-aes !" shrieked another ; " Get up and Bar the I )oor — oh !" yelled a third, frightening one of the leading horses, who sticks manfully into his collar. On we go. " Oh, why left I my Ha-a-ame ! " takes us an immense distance ; " Castles in the Air ! " gets the coach up about fifteen yards ; " We're a' Noddin' ! " delivered with impassioned fervour, makes great difference in the speed ; " My Heart's in the Highlands ! " in despairing accents, sends us half-way up a slope ; while " Tarn Glen," *' Ower the Hills an' far Awa-a-a ! " in fierce excited tones by the entire company, bring us hoarse, perspiring, and exhausted to the mountain's brow. Near the top of another ascent, the " Devil's Elbow," we fairly stuck. We found it no use to shout or lash or shoulder the wheels. The poor brutes spluttered and tore up a foot or so ; then came to a halt. We m\ t..! n 1 > \ a is i : 1 i ' 1 J ± \] IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ' 1.0 Li 1.25 M 12.0 iim 1-4 IIIIII.6 p w V] c^. c^y 'S'^ A ^^. i? / Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 % L-?/ I I ff 1:1 86 Kenticdys Colonial Travel. had to unharness them ; there was no help for it ; twilight would soon be setting in. So we left our driver Patrick in charge of the coach, and trudged with the horses seven weary miles to Cobb's Camp, a wayside house, where we arrived amid rain and dark- ness. This inn was kept by a German, an honest, good-hearted man. We housed the animals, and made arrangements for additional horses in the morning. After tea we found the host and hostess in the verandah peering out into the darkness for the expected horse-express going down to Brisbane with late letters for the home mail. The man was behind time. The night was wet, black, and stormy. The rustle and creak of the trees, the hiss and beat of the rain, prevented us from hearing distinctly, as we strained our ears for some sound of his approach. Once during a lull we made sure we heard the thump of horse hoofs, but the wind swept by and we lost them completely. He was up and close upon us with his white horse before we knew, and in a second he was off and into the bar, where he undid his dripping glazed coat and told the folks the weather was bad, and that the roads were bad, and that the fall he had was bad, and that the same horse had rolled over him twice before, and that altogether he felt like taking a glass of brandy. He stayed all night, an- left with his saddle bags early in the morning. We left not long after him, taking two fresh horses, and finding Patrick comfortably asleep inside the coach, covered up with rugs, with a portmanteau for his pillow. This day's travelling was unspeakably rough, with descents over rocks and boulders, the coach running through the high grass, and shipwrecking upon sunken roots of trees. In the midst of the valds a tall, fierce, half-naked black started up in front of us. "Lickspince" (sixpence), said he — " Give song," said we — and to our utter amazement he burst forth into a grotesque, barbarous version of " Auld Lang Syne," which he had no doubt heard sung at nights round the fireside of some lonely Scottish shepherd on one of the great outlying sheep-stations. We met, too, a per- spiring, red-faced man "swagging it" from Gympie — a plasterer, who was disgusted with the place. "Fancy," he exclaimed, " they wanted me to work for 8s. 4d. a-day — the place is going to the dogs ! " We made only a stage of eighteen miles this day, so heavy were the roads. We stayed all night at a small inn. One of us had to sleep on a table, while I lay on the bar-room sofa, having for lullaby a game of " e'lchre," played by the maudlin host, a passing drayman, and our driver. In the dark of early morning we started upon our final stage. ■' ; if The Gympie Gold Field. 87 resting during the forenoon at another of those numerous small wayside houses. This one was interesting from the number of blacks round it. They seemed to be free and untrammelled in their ways — few of them had on more than a shirt. One old man was sitting on his skinny haunches tearing up chips of wood with a three-pronged fork to form stuffing for a mattress. Another was polishing with sand a brass breast-plate inscribed " King George and Queen Anne of Woombill Creek," the badge of the tribe, presented to the royal pair by a squatter. An old woman with only two teeth, like long tusks, in either corner of her mouth, danced and screamed round us with a long stick, her canvas cloak fluttering in rags. In a hut at the back of the house a number of drowsy blacks lay toasting their toes round a wood fire, the smoke of which hung heavily inside, and curled out from the chinks between the sheets of bark. Altogether it was a strange spectacle. In our last stage we had a great extent of flat, boggy ground to go over — narrow lanes he- .ir;ed in bv the same thick under- growth as before, with mud thrcr << -^t deep, through which the horses floundered and the vehicle proceeded by slow plunges. Once we heard far-off shouts mingling with whip-cracks, and "Cobb's coach," the public conveyance, came rolling and pitching round a corner, the driver saluting us with, " Keep up your spirits, there's only the Devil's Backbone now; good morning ! " And truly this last slimy, slippery ascent merited its name. The gradient was so steep that the horses could not pull the coach up more than a few feet at a time — even though we had all leapt out, and were each pushing desperately at a wheel, with Patrick in front tugging frantically at the leaders' heads. We sighted Gympie at four o'clock that after- noon, and never was town so welcome. We were covered with mud from head to foot, and as we walked up the main street, a rumour spread that "they had arrived too late for their concert." But we set to work, had tea, put the hall in order, and at eight o'clock stepped en the platform. Gympie, the leading gold-field of Queensland, has been in existence since October of 1867. A miner named William Nash, travelling in the district, chanced to rest one evening at a creek, and while his tin can was boiling on the fire, he went up the gully prospecting for gold. Finding good " indications," he joyfully bundled up his things and started off to Mary- borough ; bought a dray, tent, tools, and provisions, and started back again, followed by hundreds of people on foot and I .. i: ' ''[■ H n 88 Kennedys Colonial Travel. horseback. The place had flourished for a month or so, when a quartz reef was opened up, and after a day or two another and another, till the alluvial diggings were almost deserted. Gympie is now a prosperous reefing district, and, as might be supposed, is still very primitive in appearance. All mining towns have three stages of development — first canvas — then wood — then brick. Gympie is now in the climax of the wood metamorphosis. Nearly all the houses, shops, stores, and churches are constructed of wood. The principal street is Mary Street, an irregular thoroughfare winding up one side of a hill — the shop fronts in every shape and design, with wooden cornices surmounted by flagstaffs, and the street resembling from a distance the long straggling lines of booths at a country fair. The places of worship are St Patrick's Roman Catholic Church, St Peter's Church of England, the Presbyterian Church, the Congregational Chapel, and the Primitive Methodists' Meeting- house, which latter stands retiringly in a by-street, and is already historic. It has the honour of being the first place of worship erected at Gympie, and went and still goes by the name of the " Diggers' Bethel," which title is painted on a sign over the door. The Presbyterian Church has a decayed look about it, but there is a cheerful new wooden building erecting close by. The older structure claims great antiquity — telling posterity, in large letters, that it was founded in 1867. It is, however, older than most of the stores in town, few of them existing earlier than 1868. Crossing Nash's Gully, which intersects Mary Street, and which is the spot where gold was first found, a short walk takes you over the Caledonian Hill to Monkland, a suburb of Gympie, about as broadcast a place as can well be imagined. A person could believe there had been at one time a metropolis of huts, and that in the course of some wide-spread devastation only every sixth or seventh hut had been left standing. Monkland is plebeian, but it is the busiest part of the gold-field ; Gympie is the shopping and fashionable quarter. There is jealousy between them. The people of Monkland virtually say to the folks of Gympie — " You in the gully there may think fit and proper to form your houses into a street, which is just in keep- ing with all your other high-flown notions, but we have not forgotten our pristine freedom, and prefer to act in an uncon- ventional manner, building our houses around our shafts and claims." We lived at a hotel which was a curiosity in its way. It had The Gympie Gold Field. 89 a good appearance outside, but was rather incomplete as to interior arrangements. The bedrooms, for instance, were all under one common roof, about eleven feet high, and separated from each other by wooden partitions about nine feet high. A knock at one door elicited " Yes " from half-a-dozen different people. The hotel being full, I had to occupy a newly-formed room. It was merely a portion of the verandah divided off by loosely-arranged planks lined with calico, and the wind blew in coldly from the street. One night sufficed for this, and then I got comfortably housed inside the hotel. Gympie was at first called Nashville in honour of the d >- coverer. The convenient French monosyllable dignifies any commonplace name. No one would ever think of Thomson Town or Smith Town, but Jonesville, Brownville, or Nashville are quite euphonious enough for the trumpet of fame. Unfor- tunately Government altered the title back to the old creek name of Gympie. Nash received fourteen claims, forty feet square, on the line of gold, as a gift from Government, and a further reward of ;^20oo, a standing bonus to anyone discover- ing a payable gold-field. Nash soon made money, and is now in Maryborough. He has invested m sugar plantations, a safer speculation than quartz-reefing. His example has been followed by the other rich men of Gympie, and cane-growing would seem to be the order of the day. The population numbers 6000, one-half engaged in mining. We found the Gympie miner to be a thriving individual, with plenty of wages and steady employment. Here we came across that wonderful digger, to be found on every gold-field, who retails to you his narrow escapes from good fortune, telling you what he might have been if he had only held on to those valuable shares of his, // he had only taken the ;^5ooo offered him for his small bit of land, if he had not been an ass, // he had kept his eyes open, if he had shut his mouth to drink, if he had not foolishly speculated with the hard-earned savings of years. This man of buts and ifs is vocally a millionaire — there is an atmosphere of wealth about him. He talks, laments, sighs, looks, and breathes money. You feel as if he had been wronged by the Fates ; you shake his horny hand and wish him " Good luck in the future." There are people in Gympie from every gold-rush under the sun. We made acquaintance during our short stay with men from California, from New Zealand, from Ballarat, from Sandhurst, and from the diggings of New South Wales. Whether they were managers, shareholders, or if 1 , 11 ■■1 i : ' i " i. ft : I' 1 r I 1 r 90 Kennedy s Colonial Travel "1 i 1 j„ ! ii (■ I common miners, they all had an elastic, bounding confidence in Gympie. They based future prosperity on the reefs — deep- sinking was to be the foundation of Gympie's greatness. By all above the earth and underneath the earth, they believed in it. By official statistics, the total of the escort returns (the gold sent down to Brisbane by armed convoy) since January of 1868, amounted to 302,275 ounces, the value of which, at ;^3, los. per ounce, was ;^i,c57,963, iis. 8d. Gympie has thriven, and will thrive. The poor plasterer, whom we met in full tramp to other, and perhaps worse fields of labour, was surely benighted as to the prospects of the place. There seemed, in my opinion, plenty of work present and work future — no doubt for the despicably paltry sum (according to the plasterer) of fifty shillings a-week, but still a certainty. Judging from appearances, Gympie has a fair share of building enterprise. The gaps in the streets are gradually being filled up. The tentmaker has relaxed his hold on Gympie, and the carpenter at present reigns supreme ; but the bricklayer, plasterer, and stonemason will one day step in and make it a substantial city. An easy journey of two days brought us north to Mary- borough. This town is the port of the Burnett district, and centre of the principal timber trade of Queensland. Coal mines flourish in the neighbourhood. Maize and sugar are grown in large quantities, and cotton in a smaller degree, while there are a great many cattle and sheep stations round about. It lies on the River Mary, which, like most of the Queensland rivers, is wide and full-flowing. There was more life about it than I had expected. Steamers of 500 tons lay alongside the wharves ; rows of drays were backed up close to the low-roofed goods-sheds ; a party of workmen were repairing portion of a wharf, driving in piles brass-sheathed as a protection from the ravages of the white ant. Here we saw large numbers of South Sea Islanders, v/lio are brought to Queensland by as near an approach to slave-trading as it is possible to reach under the British flag. They are employed on the maize and sugar plantations, and work also on the wharves. There were scores of Queensland blacks, too, carrying cargo to the steamers — brawny, muscular fellows, with brass breast-plates inscribed " King George," " King Billy," and the like, though we were greatly shocked to see royalty tussling with corn-sacks and trundling bales of hay. We go to see the annual Maryborough races, which are held in Iheld in A /I Interesting Horse-Race. 91 a clearing three miles out of town. The trees are statuesquely grouped about with blacks, who show their teeth in open- mouthed interest. Vehicles of every description are drawn up to the barriers of the course; rust-coloured hacks and sweaty plough-horses are openly paraded. Of course there are thieves, gamblers, and refreshment rooms. "Have a shy at Aunt Sallee!" This effigy is owned by an aboriginal, who offers us a shot, and who throws the sticks with grea' precision. He demolishes the old lady's pipe, grins till his face bears family resemblance to the dummy, and challenges a gentleman to "play him for a drink." The gentleman loses, and the pair walk off in a friendly way to the refreshment tent. Behind an uptilted cart we see a cardsharper in the hands of the police, sur- rounded by a boisterous crowd. Pale and damp about the eyes, he tremblingly offers a pound-note for liberty, whispering feebly — "Take it, sergeant, take it; I'll give you more!" Click ! go the handcuffs, and the crowd swarms off to fresh excitement. The best race of the day is one hastily made up of " scrubbers," or grass-fed horses. There are about fourteen of them, ridden by jacketless, bare-armed young fellows, with coloured handkerchiefs tied round their heads. They are placed at last in long, wavering line. Once ! twice ! whoop ! away they scamper — an irregular rabble, with their shirts blow- ing out behind like balloons. The whole of the folks gallop and canter through the trees to the opposite side of the course, from whence we hear vague exclamations, and faint commingled cries from the ragged throng of jockeys. Round they come for the finish ! Foremost of all is a butcher-lad on a large heavy-limbed horse, the common mob following in rough style. " Go it, Harry ! " " Now then, Dick, lay into him ! " " Good for the butcher-boy, he has the cup ! " The herd of wild competitors, with sticks, thongless whips, leather straps, and knotted handkerchiefs, lash their horses — vigorously struggling along after the leading animal, quicker and quicker. The butcher-boy, proudly conscious of his position, looks round with a smirk, expecting to see his foes in extremest distance, turns blank and solemn when he finds them near, leans for\vard in the saddle and kicks behind, hastily unbuckles his waist-belt, swings it in the air, brings it sharp on the horse's flank, makes the animal draw out in splendid style, wins the post, wheels round in front of the grand stand, and is at that moment almost unhorsed by the puffing, sweating, tumultuous rush of his disappointed rivals. » '\.\ u : 'Hi I, j ■■■ ,-!. ! i^H \. !| ., ViT 11 I- 92 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. We saw more blacks in Maryborough than in any other por- tion of Australia. They gathered about the town in large numbers, striding up and down with long spears, waddies or clubs, and boomerangs — hanging about the hotel doors, or clustering round the lamp-posts at street-corners. The older women wore oppossum rugs, had their faces covered over with a thick coating of red chalk, and had a circlet of high feathers sticking up round their heads. I must confess the old v;omen looked unearthly with their coloured faces, but we were told this chalk was the symbol of mourning. All the women own dogs. Whenever you see a number of black females together you see a corresponding gathering of dogs. And how well they are treated ! Their mistresses share with them the bread and scraps of meat collected from domestics at the back doors of hotels. And what anguish if ill befall them ! One day I saw one of these wiry dogs run over by a fast baker's van. The poor brute howled and doubled itself up in agony, while its old mistress, after great clapping and wringing of hands, set to work soothing the animal and replacing the pieces of abrased skin. All the time she continuously uttered a series of mumblings and broken exclamations, a stray tear or two finding their way through the thick layer of red chalk upon her face. In a few minutes she b'^came overjoyed, for the dog ate a piece of meat from her hand, and hobbled quietly along. The Queensland blacks are taller and more muscular than their fellows in Victoria. They have a less civilised appearance, and altogether look grander savages. They are sly dogs, too, those aboriginals. One of them was once begging for sixpence, and a gentleman tendered him an old battered threepenny- piece. " No, no, no," said the black, shaking his head and grinning — " no, no — that no good — that congregation money!" They are fond of trading in a small way. One of the blacks at Maryborough offered us a boomerang for a shilling. Before purchasing it we asked him to throw it in proof of its genuine- ness. Accompanied by a large number of young blacks and a bevy of erect, poker-like females, who smoked and who used spears as walking-sticks, we went to an open piece of ground, where the black poised himself for the throw. He stood there, seemingly undecided. "Go on," cried we. "Old woman," said he. " Where ? " said we, looking in every direction before us. "Behind! — boomerang come back! — hurt!" After the old lady had passed, the aboriginal stuck out his elbows on a level with his ears, poising the boomerang on The Queensland Blacks. 93 the back of his left hand, and grasping it firmly in his right. Then turning half round on his heel, he suddenly sent the weapon flying high into the air. It whirled, dodged, curved, went this way, changed its mind, went that way, came swoop- ing down close to the ground, rose high again with graceful sweep, lost a great deal of its vitality, revolved feebly, fluttered down again exhausted, skimmed lightly along the grass, and finally landed a few yards from the feet of the black. We bought the boomerang, and thought we had not spent our shilling recklessly. The Queensland black is passionate and ferocious. Just a day or two after we had left Maryborough, two aboriginals, Jemmy and Toby, had a mortal encounter on the river-side. Toby shouted across the water to Jemmy, commanding him to bring a boat over. He refused point blank, and Toby went off in a huff, while Jemmy stretched himself out for rest, a gun by his side. Toby went a little further up, swam across the river, sneaked through the scrub, jerked a spear at Jemm\' and wounded him in the arm. Toby advanced with club and tomahawk, and Jemmy discharged his gun into Toby's stomach. The latter fell mortally wounded, but rose in a cUmax of fury, sprung on astonished Jemmy, smashed his brains in with the tomahawk, and then fell dead upon his slaughtered adversary. Cannibalism is almost extinct now amongst the Australian blacks. If practised at all, it is only by the old men of the tribes. When you speak to any of them on the subject, they personally deny dining off another black fellow. They know the white man's abhorrence of the custom, and accuse some one else. It is always the " other fellow," the " other tribe," that indulges in cannibalism. In a natural state the aboriginals live on yams, cassava root, kangaroo, opossum, and a kind of wood slug or caterpillar. Frazer's Island, a favourite camping ground of the blacks, lies at the mouth of the Mary River. It was named after Captain Frazer, who, with his crew, was shipwrecked on the island, and cruelly murdered by the natives. Mission work has long been carried on by a Mr Fuller, but the blacks have been wiled away from the station by the wood-cutters on the island, and have lost much of the good effect produced. CHAPTER VIII. I j ROCKHAMI'TON — STATION LIFE — QUEENSLAND PORTS THE DARLING DOWNS — THE QUEENSLAND TIN MINES. We never had a more perfect sea voyage than that from Mary- borough to Rockhampton. We were thirty hours from wharf to wharf — a distance of some 250 miles. During the afternoon of the second day we came in view of Cape Capricorn, a rocky point lying upon the boundaries of the tropics — rounding which we passed through Keppel Bay to the mouth of the Fitzroy River — a range of mountains 1600 feet high, forming a near background. There was not the smallest pufif of wind, and the sun shone down oppressively. The sea was smooth and veiled by a faint mist — like a vast mirror that had been breathed on. The shoals, rocks, and sandy spits fluttered with sea-fowl, while tall sober pelicans stepped around in a paternal manner amongst the smaller birds. The river banks were low, muddy, sultry-looking, and hazy — covered with gloomy mangrove scrub, and fringed with tall, close reeds, every stalk and branch vividly reflected in the water. As the sun set, the sky blazed with orange tints, while the long reach of the river, stretching out before us, shone staring white with the reflection of the colourless sky immediately above. Then quietness settled down. The low thud of the paddle-wheels, the metallic "clunk " of the frogs in the marshes, the chirp and whirr of insects, the frequent ripple of hungry fish, and the occasional warning clang of the ship's bell echoing back from the hills, seemed to deepen the general stillness. About seven in the evening we espied, far up the stream, several points of light shining feebly against the yellow belt that circled the horizon ; then a dark mass swept past us — a house, followed by more houses, the outskirts of Rockhampton, till soon we were opposite the wharf amid the waving of lanterns, the clatter of ropes, the flaring-up of the raked-out furnaces, the guttering of steam from the blow- holes, and the solicitations of draymen, one of whom conveyed our luggage to the Leichardt Hotel. Roikliamptoii. 95 HE Rockhampton, like Maryborough, stands on flat ground, and would have much the same characterless appearance were it not for a mountain range a few miles distant. The streets are exceedingly wide, and the houses are mostly one-storey verandahed buildings, with corrugated iron roofs, slates being liable to crack in the heat of summer. Rockhampton is regarded as the capital of Northern Queensland, and is the port for a large extent of inland country. The produce of the Peak Downs copper and gold mines, distant 250 miles in the interior, finds an outlet here. As to agriculture, there are only a few hundred acres at present under cultivation, the major portion of the country being occupied by sheep and cattle stations. The works of the Central Queensland Meat Preserving Company, a short distance down the river, employ one hundred persons. This large establishment cost ;^3o,ooo in its erection, and has in connection with it a village of work- men's cottages. Whether preserved meat finds favour in Britain or not, there is at any rate plenty of it prepared here ! Though it was the month of August, and the winter season, we felt the climate to be warm. The townsfolk themselves complained of the heat, and threw open their houses to the noon-day gaze, reclining in canvas lounges, smoking and chatting in the verandahs. The windows were in reality folding glass-doors. The Rockhampton people certainly know how to combat warm weather. The grocer, the butcher, and the baker are attired in the lightest costumes ; the barber shaves you with tucked up sleeves, and shirt open at the neck ; and the draper goes about without coat or waistcoat, selling his goods to gaily- dressed young ladies. In the summer season, labourers are allowed two hours' rest at mid-day, to avoid the full power of the sun. I felt curious as to the extent of real summer heat ; from the shape and style of the buildings it must be great. The population of Rockhampton has greatly decreased from what it was during the gold rushes of 1867. There are now about 6000 inhabitants. And while on the subject of popula- tion, I may mention that, while coming up in the steam-boat, the captain told us how his first load of emigrants to Rock- hampton were forty-five single women — a precious cargo surely. At that time there were only six houses in Rockhampton, and the fair sex were all lodged in one building. In a few days they had all disappeared — one-third of them into service, two-thirds into matrimony. The bachelor squatters used to walk into this interesting domicile and make their choice. H t- 1 r I II I 96 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. The Fitzroy is one of the largest rivers in Australia, and drains, with its tril)Utarics, an extent of 60,000,000 acres. It is navigable thirty-five miles from the bay, a reef of rocks near the town preventing the passage of any but the smallest boats. Crocodiles abound in the river — farther up, however, than Rockhampton — not insignificant monsters either, as they have been seen twenty-five feet in length. " Big Ben," who was caught in the Fitzroy, and whom we saw stuffed in a museum at Sydney, was twenty-two feet long, and weighed ten hundred- weight. He appeared to be a historical character. He had been seen at such and such a part of the river, in such and such a year, by such and such a person, and had crowned himself with fame by on one occasion dragging a huge bullock neck and crop into the river. Now and then large nests are found, and a gentleman one day presented us with an egg out of .sixty-six he had discovered the same morning. The Leichardt Hotel was one of the most comfortable houses we ever lived in. The landlord was exceedingly kind ; the table was always excellently furnished ; the bedrooms v/ere clean and airy; the coffee-room was large, well supplied with newspapers, and had two large punkahs swinging from the roof, keeping up a cool draught in the hot evenings. At this hotel I had for a candlestick a black man's skull, the candle placed in one of the eye-sockets — a piece oi diablerie that might have graced the table of Alloway Kirk, and would certainly have raised an extra hair on the head of glorious Tarn. One sunny forenoon we walked out to a garden in the neighbourhood, owned by a German, one of the best-hearted fellows we had met with for many a day. His garden was a rough bush-garden, certainly — with no trim-bordered grounds or gravelled walks — but I never before saw such a variety of fruits and flowers in such a small compass. Our friend met us at the little white wooden gate, dragged us inside, bustled before us into his house, forced us to drink jugs of milk, made us rest our limbs for a quarter of an hour, and then took us round to see his adorable vegetation. Clumps of bananas, clumps of sugar-cane, clumps of bamboo — umbrella trees, with upright stems and outspread shading-branches — bread-fruit trees, palm trees — bunya, peach, and orange trees — passion-flowers ; pome- granates, mulberries, pears, strawberries, and vines — cotton trees, tobacco plants, castor-oil trees ! cauliflowers I cab- bages ! How the mind reeled amid the profusion! "Oh, dem veeds!" suddenly cried our friend — " den\ veeds!" municij as far a: westwai in the their wc drays fc One 1500 m on the A WoHcIerful Garden, 97 and he pulled up a number of large pine-apples, which were grow- ing wild alongside the walk. He called them "weeds" — no doubt because they grew without his permission. They were in the highest degree palatable. We were ushered into the house again, and had another rest, with some more milk to drink, and nice home-made cakes to eat. While we were waiting, the German made up some bright-coloured bouquets; and while we were admiring the flowers, the good lady of the house was filling a basket with oranges. She would have us take them, they were so healthy in warm weather. Lemons were even better, she said ; and the kind folks stuffed our pockets with them, shaking our hands the while, and hop- ing we would not miss our wav in the bush. The same day our friend, who drove round town every afternoon, came to the hotel, smiling over an armful of flowers. He dropped them on the table and hurried out, returning again with more smiles, and a large canvas bag filled with lemons, which were to be cut up and put in a jug with sugar and water, and were to keep us cool in the hot weather as long as we were in Rock- iiampton. We gave him our united thanks, thanking him out of the door, and thanking him till he disappeared away down the street. It will be long ere we forget either him or his garden. There is a Presbyterian Church in Rockhampton, but it might be more properly called a Protestant Church, as it is to a great extent unsectarian. It is a small wooden building, but it holds a good number of a congregation. The regular minister being absent, his place was occupied by a German, Mr Haussmann, son of one of the first missionaries who came out to Moreton Bay. A great many Germans attended the church, and in the afternoon a sermon was generally preached to them in their own tongue. Rockhampton is famous for two things. First, for its Town Council, which is energetic and spirited beyond the lot of municipalities generally. Secondly, for its railway, which runs as far as Westwood, a small township thirty miles to the south- westward. It is supposed to accommodate the squatters living in the interior ; but they fail to see the advantage of sending their wool such a short distance by rail after transporting it on drays for some hundreds of miles. One day, when we were marvelling to ourselves at being 1500 miles north of Melbourne, a Victorian friend slapped us on the back, exclaiming, " Well, well, who would have thought 1^' ; I i !■ ■: I M: »: ■ ■ 1' I 1 98 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. of seeing you here ? are you thinking of going north at all ? " North ! This to us who had prided ourselves in coming so far ! We were quite taken aback, but we found out afterwards there was a great deal of life in the north. There were some important towns — Bowen, Mackay, Cardwell, and Townsville among the number — ninety miles from which latter place are the famous Charters Towers Diggings — a gold rush which lately charmed away many hundreds of miners from all portions of Australia. Time did not permit of our visiting those places, though we were sorely tempted, having heard repeated and favourable accounts of them from the people of Rockhampton, who regard their city as the metropolis of that vast northern region. At Rockhampton we made acquaintance with a young squatter, who had just ridden down from his station, 200 miles up the country. Some years ago a large party of blacks attacked the station and murdered the young man's father. The son now conducts the business. He told us that he found station- life to be dull, and preferred the stir of Sydney or Melbourne. True, he read books and newspapers in the evenings, and sometimes visited his neighbours. Another squatter lived " only twelve miles distant," which was reckoned to be almost next door. Sometimes a passing show would call in at the little township — for be it known thore is always a goodly collection of cottages and huts in connection with a station. One day a small circus came round, and the manager cast his eye about in a business-like manner. Then he addressed the squatter : — " Ah — hum — yes — I'll fix up my tent here, if you please. I've been turning the matter over, and perhaps it will — yes, it will be some slight trouble taking money from each person in the place — so I think it will simplify matters greatly if you just give me a cheque for the population ! " This squatter had 45,000 sheep on his station. He also kept one hundred horses and broke-in forty colts every year. The breaking-in of colts is enlivening work. When one of them is ridden for the first time, there is a pretty bustling scene enacted. The horse makes every possible effort — backing, plunging, rearing, and " bucking " — to get its rider thrown. The " buck-jumper," as a more than usually vicious young colt is dubbed, sets its fore-legs out, puts its head down between them, arches its back, and suddenly springs into the air with a kind of squeal, coming down with all its hoofs ia a bunch, and sometimes sending its rider flying over its neck, saddle, girths, .fiji! A Queensland Squatter. 99 and all. If an experienced horseman and the girths hold good, you can sit the animal out till it gets exhausted. On the station, black boys are made to mount the colts for the popular diversion, but the little fellows are very rarely pitched off. The black man makes a good rider ; he clings to the stirrup solely with his big toe, and seems to have excellent foothold, for he sits securely and gracefully. Sheep-shearing, the most important business of a station, takes place all the year round in Queensland ; that is, in one district after another — the great extent of the colony, its range of temperature, its low-lying plains and its high table-land, varying the conditions under which sheep-shearing is conducted. Shearers are paid at the rate of fifteen shillings per hundred sheep, and find themselves. An active man can shear a hundred per day. Sheep-shearing is dry, warm, sweaty work. The hot sheep, the blazing sun, and the hard labour cause the men to stream with perspiration. Tliere is no drink allowed on the station, though hawkers often sell it on the sly. In that case the shearers get drunk, become refractory, and refuse to work. There is plenty of bungling work done. Sometimes the sheep struggles, and its throat is cut with the sharp shears. Sometimes it gets a stab in the ribs, or a severe gash, and then the wound is delicately molified with a blob of tar. It is rough, rough work. Any sort of man — any person lolling about town, any labourer out of work — turns shearer. The sheep are sold principally to Victorian buyers. What a long dreary drive it is down to the Melbourne market — 1200 miles overland ! Think even of driving sheep from Cornwall to Caithness — a shorter distance by many a mile. There are never less than 10,000 sheep driven down at a time — nothing short of that would pay. Six men are required to drive that number of sheep to market — a "boss" cr responsible man, and five cornmon drovers. The sheep are all branded with name, and a " the owner's name, and a " T " for travelling. The drovers follow no road, but take the shortest routes by means of the compass — the sheep feeding, of course, on the various " runs " or stations they may happen to pass through. But a courier must go in advance and give each squatter warning twenty-four hours before the sheep enter his run. The drovers are com- pelled by law, under a heavy penalty, to travel no less than six miles per day — there must be no lingering on the road to fatten up their sheep on other people's grass. Nine weary months are occupied in driving the stock to market ! The ? t . C I -t \ 1 1 ': ii L it 100 Kennedy* s Colonial Travel. carriage of goods from Rockhampton to this station is performed by bullock-drays. The hot weather is the drayman's curse. Away inland they have to drive on and on in search of water. If they arrive at a creek and find it dry, no matter how leg- weary the bullocks are, they have to push on — often ninety miles at a stretch, day and night — a long distance when we consider the slowness of the pace. Very often a bullock drops down dead through heat and want of water. Then it is hauled out of the team and dragged to the roadside, while the dray rumbles slowly past and leaves the body behind — to be found days after with white protruding bones and bare skull. At night the drayman sleeps underneath his dray, and makes himself pretty comfortable too, for he stretches sacks along from one wheel to another on either side, therewith keeping off the wind and rain. The solitary traveller is not so well off, but he manages to build up a small weather-protection of saddles, packs, and bundles, lies down with a blanket round him, places his feet close to a cheerful log-fire, falls asleep, and dreams about the pleasant "damper" he partook of perhaps an hour before. " Damper " is a lump of dough, with a pinch of soda, baked in the embers of the fire. The blacks were formerly very troublesome on this young man's station, stealing cattle and sheep. They were all dis- persed about the time of his father's murder, but were subse- quently allowed to come back upon the station. They num- bered about 300 ; in his father's time there were 1000 and more. They are thinned down by a strange organization, the Native Police — " black troopers," as they are familiarly called in Queensland. They are composed of natives from other districts, who are drafted off to track and capture their brethren of another tribe. Blacks are taken, for instance, from the dis- trict of the River Murray, and brought over to Queensland. Different tribes have a fearful antipathy to each other. The aboriginals have great clannish vindictiveness. They track other blacks as no white man could. The "black troopers" go in parties of five, with a white man as captain, whom the aboriginals style their " mammie." During the period following a murder, the most common crime for which the black man is hunted, the troopers enter the tangled scrub. They strip themselves naked, leaving nothing on but their caps and cart- ridge boxes. The white captain waits outside the scrub and watches the baggage. In go the blacks, with loaded guns, and carrying two spare cartridges in their mouths. When they Queensland Blacks. lOI come upon the tribe, they fire, and off go the unwounded like deer, pursued by the troopers, who very seldom get a second shot. The blacks think nothing of taking life. Last year a man was crossing the Fitzroy in a boat not far at "e Rock- hampton, when a party of blacks rushed round him as he landed on the river bank, and " waddied " or brained him to death with clubs, within sight of an almost equal number of white men. On the other hand, we heard at Rockhampton and other parts of Queensland, dark floating rumours as to the white man's tyrannical treatment of the black. From Rockhampton we returned south again to Brisbane, visiting three Queensland ports on the way. First Gladstone, situated on Port Curtis, the scene of a great gold-rush in 1858, when thousands flocked as usual from all parts of Australia — when the eager tail-end of the crowd encountered the returning and disappointed head. It was indeed a great failure. Even now, when any gold-rush proves worthless, it is called, in a climax of condemnation, a second Port Curtis. Next came Bundaberg, at this time a two-year old settlement. It lay ten miles up the river Burnett. The day was hot, and dozens of black men sprawled amongst the long grass that fringed the stream. Over our heads there flew occasionally a flock of peli- cans, one of which we saw sailing along with an immense snake writhing in its beak. Another short journey and we were again at Maryborough. Just before leaving this port, five aboriginals came on board, intending to drop off at Frazer's Island, the favourite holiday ground of the blacks. When the steamer reached a certain point of the channel, they Avent behind one of the paddle-boxes, where they quickly undressed themselves. It requires little time to take off a shirt. One of the blacks, an old grey-haired man, had a large ornament like an immense fern leaf slashed clown his back. These gashes were made by mussel shells, and were the distinctive armorial bearings of the tribe. The young- est of the blacks was about ten or twelve years old. The five rolled up their rags into bundles, and tied them on top of their heads, with a knot under the chin. Then, with great gesticula- tion, they executed a dance on the slippery spars immediately behind the paddle-wheels. After long fidging, twitching, and nasal droning, they dived off, one after the other, into the rush- ing, glancing foam — not with splash and splutter, but streaking themselves coolly out. The old man had the additional task of pushing before him a bag of flour. The long yellow beach t . !) 1, . ) 1 1' ! I' ■■ V > ; ! III :|'^ 1 02 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. of the island, more than a quarter of a mile distant, was shining in the slanting rays of sunset, and was by this time thronged with blacks — the women carrying bundles of fishing nets, the men waving their arms and shouting to the swimmers. At different points high perpendicular columns of smoke were rising from out the density of the trees. Looking behind with a glass, we saw five black heads bobbing in the distance, then five dark figures emerging from the surf, scampering along the sand, and joining their companions on the shore. We had to be in Brisbane on Friday to give a performance on behalf of one of the charities, but we did not find till too late that the steamer's time was altered, and that she was not due till Saturday ! The captain, however, was most obliging, for he did not waste a moment, hurried up the loading at the ports, caught all the tides, ^nd landed us at Brisbane in plenty of time for the concert. One of our horses, " Billy," a strong massive animal, having been affected with fever in the feet ever since the toilsome journey to Gympie, one of my brothers and I had to take him by steamboat to Ipswich, while the rest of the party came on by the coach. This river journey was twenty-five miles of side-splitting fun. The tide was very low, so much so that the little steamer had to be steered on shore at the sharp turnings, and then poked off with poles — a most laughable procedure, the extreme shallowness of the channel inducing the captain and one of the passengers to bet as to whether the boat had or had not scraped on this or that occasion. Passengers, too, were picked up here and there off the river-banks, a small boat for the purpose being towed behind the steamer — giving one the idea of an aquatic omnibus. Once, in going close inshore, we drifted slowly under a large tree trunk that projected from the bank. " Unship the flagstaff!" shouts the captain, signalling to back the engines. A man springs to the bow, hauls away at the pole, fails to move it, rushes for the carpenter, comes back almost immediately in desperation, tears out the flagstaff, turns round, waves it like a standard over a taken fortress, and is caught full in the back by the projecting tree, which takes him slowly off his legs. With such stirring adventures the time passed pleasantly. , • 1 !' i ■ • ■A i;i I t i i % < I ■I; ; \: '• io6 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. united in his person the respective characters of publican, tin- buyer, and member of Parliament. The town being in a feverish, unsettled state, the hotel was crowded with boarders and busy with loungers. The first day we had dinner in com- pany with an editor, a commercial traveller, a squatter, a printer, and a railway official. We felt we were hob-nobbing with the vital interests of the place. The menu was all and more than one could have expected. AVe had all the delicacies of a town hotel. The landlord had the services of a famous French cook, whose name was a household word in every part of Queensland, but has somehow escaped my memory. After dinner we view the township. Going up the street we see a " Mining Agency " hut — a " Commercial Agency" shanty — a snuff-coloured shed occupied by a solicitor — Way Hop's grocery, Tong Sing's hair-dressing establishment, Sun Kum Sang's tea-shop, Chow Wing's dry goods store — the Post Office shed — the telegraph office, ten feet by fourteen — a wooden house with the gable knocked out for an entrance, flaunting a sign " Mr Abraham, habit-maker " — a wretched hut, with a glazed cloth for the door, announcing " Fresh Oysters for Sale;" and a "Bill-poster's Saloon," where a raffle is to be held, the bellman ringing and lustily shouting out the prizes. Frequent placards meet our eye — " Roll up, roll up, electors ! Use your liberty ! Beware of Parliamentary Dodges ! " " Jones is selling Drapery cheap ! " " Currie and Rice will give their highly-seasoned Negro entertainment ! " Turning a corner, we come upon the Quart Pot Creek. Here truly was a scene of industry ! — a veritable hive or unearthed ant-hill. Scores of men in a high state of activity were to be seen in the rough stony bed of the creek. Workmen were cutting down the banks on either side a depth of thirty feet or so, enabling the miners to widen their researches — some were up above, loosening the earth with picks, and some were trundling it across the planks that bridged the workings. Solitary men sat plunging away at horizontal brass pumps, thirteen feet in length — driving wheels, two or three feet in diameter, revolved in the water-races — miners in high boots, with long eight-pronged forks, were busy in the sluice-boxes. The water in the creek is carried off by a flood-race 300 yards long and fourteen feet wide, cut out of the solid rock on the banks. The inflow of creek-water, still considerable, is drained off by two large Californian pumps. These are worked by steam, and constructed on the principle of the jack-towel and A Two- Year-Old Town. I Of theatrical waterfall. A long, broad, endless leather band» riveted with numerous wooden ledges, like the entrance to a hen-roost, revolves rapidly into the creek, and literally scrapes the water up a narrow enclosed shaft to the required level. The miners get from forty-five to fifty shillings per week. The tin-ore, which resembles turnip-seed, is sold for jQ(>2 per ton, and about 120 tons are sent off to Warwick every week. Returning from the Quart Pot Creek, we encounter stumpsy bushes, boulders, fallen logs, barkless trees, heaps of sand, and square white canvas tents fluttering in the wind. Turning a corner, we pass an array of back-yards, filled with broken crockery — piles of champagne, ale and beer bottles — heaps of logs and firewood — huts with palisades round them — horses browsing in small paddocks — hens and goats skipping about — \vith here and there a Chinaman's cabbage garden. We see a humble brown church, I know not of what denomination, with the orthodox peaked door and windows, and with a bark roof straddled over by a framework of saplings — a thing usually done to keep the sheets of bark from being blown off. The other churches are almost equally ill-favoured, being simply shingled weather-board buildings. The Wesleyans hold service in a shop. Again we have more huts, with smoke streaming from every crevice, caused either by a conflagration or a breakfast — huts with inch-wide crannies — huts built at the foot of naked trees, and constructed of the sheets of bark stripped from their bare desolate trunks. Then houses newly-painted — houses dingy-looking — houses redolent in fresh yellow planks — houses supported on props, and surrounded by props, looking like huge insects about to crawl off. Every man seems to have been his own architect, and, as on most mining rushes, the rough appearance of the houses is more the result of necessity than poverty. People who, to keep in harmony with their dwellings, should be moving in squalor and rags, have pounds of wages and saved money. Many on this tin-field are respectable, well-connected folks, drawn by the temporary excitement to a rough way of living. One hut we entered was lined inside from top to bottom with cuttings from the illustrated papers, while over these again hung a splendid oil-painting. We gave our concerts here in the Court House, a wooden building raised on props two or three feet from the ground, with a platform outside reached by a flight of steps after the manner of "Richardson's Show." There were not enough m 'Ui \ '9 %. ■ ^■'■:\ :l t' i f h I ! Ill yi 1 1 t, i li ' ! I i > 'S 11 io8 Kennedys Colonial Travel. seats in the building, so we had to borrow from various parts of the town. We carried out the prisoners' dock, and made it the "ticket-office" — the public paying their money over the long row of spikes with which the box was guarded. The jury-box was hastily filled by a party of folks who came very oarly — literally one of the "first families." We sat ranged on the Judge's bench — a " terrible show ! " The court-room was crowded and hot, and the windows had to be kept wide open, giving a full view of the performers to the large crowd which had gathered outside. On Saturday night, after our last concert, we had to return all the chairs and forms, as they were urgently wanted on the Sunday. My brothers and I had to reseat two churches before getting to bed that night ! We went to the Presbyterian Kirk next day, where we heard a most excellent sermon. The building was small and primitive- looking. The pulpit-step was a plain box with the letters XX plainly visible upon it ! • There are 8000 miners in the Stanthorpe district. We saw them during two crucial periods — Saturday night and Sunday morning — and if there was little anxiety in the matter of church going, there was at any rate an absence of rowdyism, while their sobriety after pay-hours was much to be commended. There is a Savings Bank held in the Court House every Saturday night, with an average deposit of ;^3oo. Land is eagerly sought after in Stanthorpe. There was a most interesting scene here in connection with some mining land which had been thrown open for selection. There was such a demand for allotments, that four or five times the number would have been necessary. So many were the applicants, that ultimately they had to be chosen by ballot When the day came for declaring the successful applicants, the Commissioner's office was besieged by hundreds of men, women, and children. The whole town was there, and the street was filled with people. The Commissioner could not get elbow-room, and had to take refuge on the roof, from whence he read out the list of names in loud stentorian tones ! CHAPTER IX. '!.) iA THE NEW ENGLAND DISTRICT — A BUSH INN — THE HUNTER RIVER DISTRICT — THE HILL END COUNTRY — BATHURST. Leaving the lively, piquant township of Stanthorpe, we crossed the Queensland border into New South Wales. On the way the coach became deeply bogged, and it was not till after great labour that we dug it out with sticks and poles. Fifteen miles out we stopped for the night at a small inn known as " Jenner's." Here one of the horses was seized with some internal complaint, and our driver was not slow to exhibit his veterinary skill. The animal's mouth was rigidly shut, but we pried it open, while Patrick emptied a bottle of hot ale and spirits down its throat. In a few minutes the horse shook its ears and was as lively as the rest of the team. Next day we travelled through country covered with stones and boulders. There were hanging rocks, and rocks piled up like rude, old- world altars — boulders perched on the tops of ridges, and boulders arrested in a headlong rush down a hill slope — rocks in every variety of strange beautiful fantastic form. Still further, we passed between the high towering banks of a ravine, with lofty trees shooting straight up into the sunlight from amidst a dense, dark, embowering undergrowth of vege- tation. A bush-fire was raging here quite close to us, and the grass was burning to the very edge of the road. One fire was very extensive, the flames leaping round the trunks of the trees and blazing amid grass, bushes, and stumps. Yellow pungent smoke half obscured the sky, and the sunlight upon the road seemed to come through coloured glass. Large patches of country were smouldering and blackened, and the distant ranges wreathed in smoke, like mountains shrouded in mist. We reached Tenterfield, a quiet border-town. We were now in the New England district of New South Wales. It stands about 4000 feet above sea-level, and has a pure, fresh, delicious, climate, though we felt it rather cold. " Cold ? by Jove, this is excellent weather," cried an enthusiastic townsman, drawing ill Hi h> 1 1- ■ \ .( .( ■ li' no Kennedy s Colonial Travel. ' i' J 1 ! IP 1 'f \ i ' \ i i \ J in his breath with a hiss — " Cold ? why, this is a glorious climate — same as England every bit — that is, barring the damp ! Where will you find such glowing-cheeked damsels — such brown-faced sturdy young men ! I love the cold wind, bless it!" There are 13,100 square miles in this district. Agriculture is its main industry. Butter, milk, and eggs are scarce. In few of the hotels can you get more than a mere dribble of milk to your meals. As often as not eggs are beaten up as a substitute. The country folks do not trouble themselves much about dairy produce, as there is yet but a very uncertain market. Another town to the southward receives its supply of butter all the way from Sydney, some two or three hundred miles. A stage of thirty-five miles further brought us to Deepwater, the smallest place we ever performed in. It consisted solely of two inns about three hundred yards from each other. We had tea in the dining-room — then adjourned to the kitchen, where the concert was held. Forty people managed to crowd in, and we wondered where they all came from. The acoustics, I need hardly say, were not good, and one had the feeling of singing down the throats of the audience in the front seats. Even in such a small village as this we were not free from opposition, for the other half of the town — that is, the rival hotel-keeper — got up a " dance " to try and charm away our audience I On our way to Glen Innes, we passed some really fine country. But the road lay at one place near the foot of a high, naked bluff, the scene of a fearful tragedy. Eighteen blacks, who had niurdered a family, were pursued by the relentless native police to this sheer precipice, and literally chased ove? into the abyss. The Australian bush is as a rule not very plentiful in historical associations. True, people tell you that here a notorious bush-ranger was shot — here two tribes of blacks met in deadly encounter — here an early explorer arrived in one of his expeditions — here an entire family was drowned in a flood^here a famous nugget was discovered. But tht, events have not the charm of antiquity, and your interest ib mainly concentrated on the natural beauties of the country, and the cheerful evidences of settlement. Glen Inngs is an agricultural township, finely situated amidst fertile country, The hall here was an auction-room. We had the job of piling up some scores of heavy bags of tin-ore to forrn a basis for the platform. Talking of bags r^rninds me of lidst had to e of Tlu Nezv England District. Ill another place wo were at, where the seating cons' sted of planks laid on sugar-bags. Early in the evening man) of the bags burst, and if the audience did not take the entertainment with "a grain of salt," they at any rate helped themselves liberally to the sugar! The hotel at Glen Innes was full of commercial tra- vellers, and one or two of our party had to sleep in some odd beds constructed in a building at the rear. As usual, one common roof covered a number of partitions, which were merely calico screens. In one compartment a Chinese barber was plying his trade, and we had to endure the disagreeable odour of soap- suds. Towels were scarce, and it was highly comical to see a man wiping his face on the loose fragments of the calico partitions — "drying his face on the walls," as he called it. The hotel people had run short of calico in one instance, and had filled up the gap with old election banners, ** Peace and plenty! Vote for Fipps ! " and so on. The commercials made the night hideous by prolonged revelry in the hotel parlour. They clanked glasses, slapped the table with their hands, shouted, stamped with their feet, engaged in vociferous discussions, and bellowed out the gems of British melody. Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, one, two! It was not till close upon three o'clock in the morning that the commercial interest felt depres- sion and departed to its couch. The groom at this hotel was a New Zealand man. Of course he had the usual romantic history. Three years ago he was worth ;;^4ooo, He had one of the best hotels in Auckland, and owned a rac^r, valued at 200 guinea? — a large sum for a horse in the colonies. One of his troubles consisted in that the animal was drugged and poisoned when he had backed ;^iooo upon it. He had also failed in mining. Like hun- dreds of others, he took up mining scrip, upon which he had paid " calls " till nearly every penny had been spent. As he said himself, busy curry-combing a horse, •* Now, I'm a poor man, grooming — but I just grin and bear it ; I've come here where nobody knows me." There are scores of similar iiistories in the colonies. Were a human wreck-chart of Australia pub- lished, what a speckled map would be presented ! Before starting for Inverell we made diligent inquiry as to the number of miles we had to travel. In Australia you are never sure of road or distance, There are no mile-stones, for one thing — there are numerous tracks, for another — and there are short cuts, most perplexing of all. We consulted the commercials at Glen Innes, and roused quite a debate. " Say I H 'I i \ ¥. 112 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. \\ what you like, its twenty-nine miles. Yes, it's all that, if it's a yard. Ah ! you mean twenty by Griffin's sheep-run. I mean by the creek and through the slip-rail, running down by the five-mile house. Now, what's the good of you saying it's thirty ? — that's the old road — the coach goes a different track now, the drays have cut the other up so badly — besides, there's no crossing at Beery Bob's place now — there's a big hole in the middle of the bridge ! I wouldn't advise the gentlemen to take any other than the one I mean, unless they go over the Range, and then their horses would have to be fed on ivy to climb that !" We spent a Sunday in Inverell, and went to the Presbyterian Church. There was an attentive, respectable congregation of honest, healthy-looking country-folks. There was not any ap- proach to gaudiness of dress or affected gentility. They were decent people with their Sunday clothes on. Many of them had come on horseback, and the animals browsed outside the church until the conclusion of the service. Before entering the church, we had noticed a man tugging vigorously at the bell-rope. When the congregation had been " rung in," he hurried to the precentor's desk and led the psalms. Then later he whipped round with the collection-plate. Lastly, he saw the congregation out, and carefully locked the door. He was only equalled in versatility by a man we saw in Kilmore, Victoria, who was at one and the same time the Presbyterian church-warden, the town-crier, the bill-poster, and the Inspector of Nuisances ! At Inverell we wished to buy a saddle-horse. Patrick hap- pened to mention that fact to the stableman, and in half-an-hour the news had spread all over the town. The street was soon busy with horses of every variety, and with all kinds of vices. My brothers and I had 'a hard time of it cantering up and down the road, trying the different hacks. At last we hit upon a small wiry horse, for which the extravagant sum of six guineas was asked ! He was an insignificant-looking, meek-faced animal, but we added to its d'gnity by calling it " the General." He turned out well, not only " in the field," but also on the road. Armidale was the last town we visited in this New England district. It is the centre of an astonishingly fertile tract of country. Farms meet the eye in every direction. There is little of the squatting interest. The land is cut up into innum- erable sections, and there are a proportionate number of happy, hap- -hour soon upon lineas faced eral." the Hoiv zve Travelled. lO contented, jolly farmers. We chanced to be in Armidale also on a Sunday, and found there was a most prosi)erous, numer- ously-attended Presbyterian Church. The congregation, as at Invcrcll, was drawn from miles round ; but we saw no horses tied up anywhere. At the conclusion of the service, howc or, when we thought every one had disappeared, lo ! from behind one end of the church there came a long procession of people on horseback. Down they came, riding in couples, the horses' hoofs crunching along the narrow, heavily-gravelled walk that ran past one side of the church. There were young ladies with long black dresses — young men in leggings and bright spurs — little boys on big farm-horses — rough bushmen on frisky steeds — burly farmers on muscular, well-knit horses. As the equestrians emerged into the open ground in front of the church, they parted company, rode off in small groups, and were soon invisible amongst the houses and the by-roads round about. The minister of this church is hard-worked, for in addition to his many duties in Armidale, he holds service at thirty-four different places every three months. He preaches in the town once a fortnight to a congregation large enough for his whole ^mdivided energies. But ministers are "scarce and the country sparsely settled. The colonial clergymen certainly live laborious days. \\'e heartily enjoyed our travelling. In the morning, just before the first streaks of daylight, we rose in the cold and tlie darkness, and made ready for the journey. Our driver busied himself in the stable by candle-light, giving the horses their oats and putting on the harness. We drew the coach out into the stable-yard — then took the wheels off, one at a time, and gave the axles a dose of castor-oil from a bottle which Patrick carried about with him for use equally on wheels and horses. The coach was packed — then off we started, Patrick smacking his whip, or " flagellator," as he called it, and our heavy dog Uno bounding in front. Poor beast ! he had many a weary scamper alongside that coach. But he enjoyed him- self m his own way. Now he would dash wickedly through the bush, after some innocent sheep — now hear a rustling in the grass, and follow a snake to its nest in a hollow log — -now rush excitedly after a drove of kangaroos — now sniff a tree for some hidden opossum. One day he would be splashed all over with black mud — another day powdered over with white sand — next day covered from head to tail in red loam — ac- cording to the various districts we passed QT-ough. We had H !. r i 1 1, ; i ■ ■ ' :■ t! M!!i li: ill * 1 : ^i';i-ii i r ' ■J ;■ i i i i ( \ ! \ \ k 114 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. i, ■! % % I glorious canters in the bush ; for by this time we had improved in our horsemanship. We had felt a little diffident at first, as everybody rides in Australia. There is no country in the world where the horse is more of a boon or a necessity. The boy who chuckles at you behind your back can ride — so can the grey-headed old man who seems scarcely active enough for a walk. We have seen men galloping with baskets of eggs and cans of milk or water, and have observed a mother with her infant in arms riding along with all the appearance^of comfort. Every brown-faced country lass can do her trot and canter — not always with a side-saddle, but sometimes in a very un- ladylike position, " a la clothes-pin," as the Yankees have it ! We had great experience of Australian hotels. Taken as a whole, they were excellent. The accommodation was good — so was the " table." Meat of course entered largely into the fare. This might be expected in a country where beef is from fourpence to fivepence a pound, and mutton threepence a pound. The colonials eat a good deal of butcher-meat. A bush-farmer, a Scotsman, once said to us, " What wad the folks in Scotland think o' pleughinen gettin' mutton to eat in the mornins ? We have cauld mutton to breakfast, cauld mutton to dinner, an' cauld mutton to tea. We're weel aff, I can tell ye ! " The charges in the hotels vary from six shillings to ten shillings a day, according to the quality of the house or the size of the township. This payment covers everything. There are no vague additional items such as " Attendance," or " Beds," or " Boots," or " Lights." You know exactly what you have to pay. Of course there is no law forbidding you to tip the waiter or stableman before driving off — but that is about the fullest extent to which anything is "looked for." While the accommodation in the country hotels is good, we cannot say so much for the bush-inns, as the houses in the less-settled parts are called. Hot, tired, dusty, thirsty, travelling through the lonely, end- less bush, amid the unvarying fragrance of the gum trees, we come to a bush-inn, the " Traveller's Rest." We see its white- painted sides and its iron roof shining through the trees, ^^'e push forward in haste. The very horses prick up their ears and quicken their pace. In a few minutes we draw up to the door. Immediately in front of it stands a tall white post sup- porting an empty square frame, from which the sign-board has broken away. A red-faced, sandy-whiskered man in tight trousers and a striped flannel shirt, with a halter dangling over y what you to that is id for." )od, we white- A Bush Inn. 115 his arm, takes the horses round to the stable. In the bar, a bullock-driver is asleep upon a small three-legged stool, his head upon his arms, leaning on an ale cask that stands in one corner, and from which an occasional draught is tapped by the landlord for two swagmen who have just dropped in. A trooper has dismounted from his horse, and is sitting on a form outside, reading the latest paper from the nearest township. At the side of the door a magpie chatters in a large round wicker cage. Going to tlie stable, we cross a rotten plank or two, that, from the slushing sound they make, seem to cover something sodden. We come upon dirty-faced, shaggy-headed children — dogs snuffing at old bones — hens pecking at cold potatoes — and many pigs quarrelling in a small stye. The scene is backed by one or two drunken-looking out-houses, which seem ready to topple over, the whole strata of the walls being many degrees off the perpendicular. Close to the stable stands an old buggy, and near the door lie half-a-dozen horse- collars, a set of chain-harness, a pitchfork, a dingy stable-lamp, and an old brandy-case strewn with stray oats and chaff, the remains of some horse's alfresco feed. The interior of the stable is far from cheerful. A thin layer of straw barely covers the earth in the floor of the stalls. The planks that compose the walls are wide apart, m.any of them swing loose, and a cold wind blows through and through the stable. Oats are handled with great care and delicacy by the stableman, who deals them out in homoeopathic doses. Dinner being ready, we enter the parlour. The walls are merely papered canvas, and bulge inwards with every puff of wind. The window is shaded by a white blind that is semi- detached from the roller and hangs down in a long dog's ear. The wide yawning fire-place, full of white powdery dead embers, resembles the mouth of a railway tunnel, for the smoke has curled out and blackened the wall immediately above. The grimy, sooty mantelpiece is occupied by empty pickle-bottles, two noseless, armless China statues, a tattered, crimson-backed copy of Beeton's Cookery Book, and a tiny pocket thermometer, the mercury of which has broken its little bulb and trickled away in disgust at not being able to register anything but smoke. The table is covered with a walnut-coloured glazed doth, the veneer of which having scaled off in many places, shows the rough canvas beneath. At one end is si)read a white cover, blotched with extensive yellow stains caused by the spilt coffee of some preceding guest. There are two dishes i I ll f , ■ 1 •1 i 1 1 ■ \ ' I " > 1 .' ! !, •■^ • I I I' \ I if r..if Hi I lit ' lit'^ ii6 Kennedy s Colonial Travel, — an immense piece of corned beef, and a plateful of ham and eggs. The floor being uneven, you are in continual oscillation on your seat. The cruet-stand, formerly a tripod, has lost a foot, and now leans over invitingly towards us. The carving- blade is broad at the tip and curved like a scimitar ; the common knives, through long-continued sharpening, look like daggers ; the tarnished, dinted dish-covers are ranged on a side-table like shields. We feel we are dining in an armoury. A dog appears on one side, and puts its paws upon the table — a lean cat stands opposite and claws away at the cloth — I sit between a hungry, rampant coat-of-arms. The pudding turns out to be a long, dry rolly-polly, the jelly of which seems to have lost itself in one of the numerous convolutions. Tea is brought in a large metal pot about eighteen inches in height, and is found to be obnoxious. The bread, too, is unpalatable, and when sliced down you see running through it veins of raw, white dough. The cups are plain, coarse, grey-coloured, with rims a quarter of an inch thick ; while the spoons are of a very miscellaneous nature, there being an egg spoon, a salt spoon, a German silver spoon, and a leaden spoon wherewith to stir our tea. Three of us are quartered in one bedroom, and accommodated with what are called "swagmen's beds." The pillows are stuffed with straw, and the wisps stick into our ears. We sleep under the national tricolour — red, white, and blue — a rough red- threaded coverlet, a thin blue blanket, and a thinner white sheet. Another sheet separates us from the barred trestle beneath, and we feel as if sleeping along a ladder. One window serves two rooms, the partition coming right in the middle of it. As the window is open, and a breeze blowing, we try to shut it, but find the gentleman next door has propped it up with the hair-brush. The wall en one side is a wainscoated jmrtition, and a cataract of rats and mice pours unceasingly through it. The other is the usual calico screen, and when we blow out our candle we are startled by seeing, in gigantic shadow-pantomime, the whole of our neighbour's nocturnal toilette. Just as we are dozing off, we hear angry voices in the bar — a crashing of glasses, a scuffling of feet, yells, blows, and foul language — recrimination, threats, and female outcries for the police. Suddenly the sounds mellow down, and we know the combatants have been bundled into the open air. Lightly dressing ourselves, we hurry out. The space in front of the A Midnight Fight. 1^7 hotel is filled with a noisy crowd of men. In the middle of them stands a short, purple-faced, inebriated man, with dis- ordered hair and ensanguined nose. He is mildly denouncing everybody with a general wave of the hand — *' Cowards all of you — I'm only a poor butcher — you're a lot of curs — I'm from the Moon-bi Range up there — seen skittles ? — well, knock you all down like skittles — you're a confounded pack of — ." " Shut up, will you ! " roars another drunken fellow, bringing his fist down on the butcher's nose. Purple-face retaliates, but missing his aim, hits another individual full in the chest. This introduces a new combatant, who, in turn, becomes embroiled with some one else. At length there is a general mele'e. In the thick of all is the Moon-bi man, whose nose is punched by everyone consecutively. On the outskirts of the throng, the landlady tugs at the coat-tails of her husband, who is mixed up with the fight. The stableman excitedly rushes round with a lantern, and, standing on an inverted wheel-barrow, throws a glimmer of light upon the scene. For full five minutes there is continued shouting, kicking, and tearing of hair. Suddenly the crowd opens and the poor butcher is projected violently against a wooden fence, frightening a number of hitched-up horses, who snap their bridles and vanish into darkness, followed by their half-sobered owners. The butcher sits for a time scratching his head, and meekly muttering vengeance; but eventually, with the assistance of some of his late foes, he picks himself up and staggers into the bar, where he abruptly falls asleep over a " nobbier " of schiedam. It will be long ere we forget our day at this bush-inn, and our midnight introduc- tion to the man of the Moon-bi. We had dull times travelling down from Armidale in the New England district. At Tamworth, however, some sixty-two miles south of Armidale, there was great talk about the capture of a party of bushrangers. They had committed robberies away up in the interior of Queensland, on the Barcoo River, and had been tracked by mounted police down through Southern Queensland, across the Border, through New England, i)ast Armidale, and into the vicinity of Tamworth, where they were caught after severe resistance. We had frequently heard in our travels of bushrangers, but had never before been so near the scene of their capture, or so soon after the event. Sixty miles further south, at Murrurundi, we reached the Great Northern Railway, which extends to the port of Newcastle, a distance of 120 miles. Murrurundi was one of the most beautifully situated i 1 1 I ! ■ i %\ :j . !;! ! Ii8 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. places we had seen. We sighted it when coming round the spur of a hill, on the Liverpool Range — the town lying beneath us on a plain, in a valley formed by unusually high mountains. Then we took the train to Singleton, passing on the way Muscle- brook and Scone, two healthy-looking pretty towns. The weather during this month of October was very pleasant. On our second visit to this district, however, which was during December, the heat was uncommonly intense. The town of Scone fully bore out its name, for it was baked. The ther- mometer stood for several days at 142° in the sun, and 110° in the shade. Whenever you left the shelter of a verandah you felt the solar rays instantly striking down upon you. The grass was grey and went into powder beneath your feet — the earth was as dry as cinders — great bush-fires raged in the mountains, grasshoppers were to be seen in myriads on every meadow and field — mosquitoes sang loudly everywhere ; and going to your bed at night, you would find an enormous tarantula spider, like a small crab, crawling on your looking- glass or climbing up the walls. The forests of Victoria, also, were ablaze from one end of the country to the other, and such overpowering heat had not been known for many years. At Scone we were almost compelled to keep indoors, and it was there that, seeing a drayman standing in the hotel-porch, we remarked that the weather was hot. " Hot ! " he rejoined, " I should think it was ! every time a bullock passes me I smells beef-steaks." Maitland, the second city in New South Wales, and the chief town of this Hunter District, was a great surprise to us. It was an extensive place, substantial, and well-built. The Hunter River runs close at the back of the town. At home Maitland was always associated in my mind with floods. As we walked about, old flood-marks were pointed out to us. The flats on each side of the town, and in fact the whole of the level country in this large Hunter District, owe their unparalleled fertility to the occasional overflowing of the river. "I tell you as a solemn fact," said a Maitland man, "the crops would fail, and the town would languish, if we did not have a flood at least every three years." Though we were at Maitland during some heavy showers, yet the down-pour was not fortunately so steady and so long continued as to produce any visible effect upon the river. A week or two, however, after we had left, there was a flood which almost surpassed the memorable one of 1863. The Hunter rose forty-three feet, and laid the whole district under also, and ind the us. It Hunter and was walked ats on country tility to solemn nd the t every some steady pon the was a The under Maitlaiid. 119 water. The streets of Maitland were impassable save by row- boats. Valuable property bordering on the river was com- l)lctely swept away. Several persons were drowned, and many barely escaped with their lives. Happily the flood was not of long duration, and matters soon got back to their old way. No doubt, for the next two or three years the crops will be unusually good. From Maitland we again took the rail to Newcastle, leaving behind us the most fertile district in the colony, "the Granary of New South Wales." Through smoke and stir — past busy collieries, chimney-stalks, heaps of coal, and long rows of laden trucks — we approached the great Port Hunter. We saw a fleet of shipping lying in the docks — a crowd of vessels standing out at anchor — and a host of small steamboats pufiing out and in. On our left stretched a wharf lined with coal-shoots, covered with avenues of trucks, and lively with locomotives. New- castle rose on our right — lying up against a hill-face, the inner side of a headland overlooking the ocean — the town seeming as if it had been drifted there by some unusually strong breeze. Like its namesake, Newcastle flourishes on immense exports of coal. Besides that required for the Australian market, it ships coal to China, India, California, and South America. We noticed that the yield for one week amounted to 12,638 tons. We came back from Newcastle to Musclebrook, and resumed our coach and horses, which we had left there while we went down by rail. Our route now lay across country, along what was not by any means a high road. We purposed reaching Gulgong, the latest gold-field of the colony, 124 miles inland, in five days. We had pleasant travelling to Denman, a small village fifteen miles from Musclebrook, where we stayed all night. Here Patrick had a quarrel with the innkeeper as to which of them should clean out the stable. Upon our not backing him up in his imaginary grievance, he threw up his engagement with us, and next morning we awoke in time to see Patrick far in the distance trudgingback to Musclebrook. Here was a dilemma ! We were left with a coach and horses on our hands — no other driver was to be had — none of us had ever driven a team before. But a relative of ours, " Tom " by name, who travelled with us as business-agent, volunteered to drive the coach. We left in the early morning, and toiled successfully through tbe bush till mid-day, when we rested three hours by the side of a creek. In the afternoon, as we were ascending a soft sandy hill, the coach stuck. The horses were f \ ■•t ( , li • ■1: i M i -1 - i ■i ;! ■ 1 i • ! ; H ' ;■ 1 1 , I I ' I 120 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. not to be budged by any amount of lashing. Tired out thougli we were by a whole day's hard jolting, heat, and some miles of hill climbing, we hauled out the heavier part of the luggage. The two leaders jibbed, and we unharnessed them, that the willing pole-horses might work. With painful exertion they ploughed the coach obliquely up the hill for twenty or thirty yards. Then we unloaded the remainder of the luggage. The two horses set off again, but gradually drifted round beyond the control of the driver. They dragged the coach across the hill, and edged their way down the slope. The horses came so sharply round that the vehicle gradually began to tilt over. We could see the wheels lifting slowly off the ground, at first — • then cjuicker and quicker — while Tom sprawled over towards the higher side of the box, and latterly jumped off unhurt, dragging the reins after him, as the coach went down with a loud crash. The horses stood quietly, and nibbled at grass. We tied them beside the others, and with branches of trees pried the coach round, so that we could lift it into position down hill. Within five minutes it was on its wheels. We carried the nearer heap of luggage up the long hill — then went further down and brought up the heavier baggage. By the time we were ready to start, we came to the conclusion that we had never known fatigue before. Daylight had vanished long ere we had arrived at Merriwa. It was the first time we had travelled through thick bush on a dark night. The horses seemed to feel their way instinctively. One of our folks, riding ahead of us, threw over his back a broad white handkerchief, as a faint guide to the turns of the road. After a time we could scarcely see either horse, rider, or handkerchief, but we kept up a series of whistles and shouts as a link between us. One of our cries was " Coo-oo-oo-ee I" a bush- call which the whites have borrowed from the aboriginals — a long drawn, low set sound, suddenly jerking up into a loud acute shriek, heard at great distances. As we drove into the township, the folks came out, astonished at this untimely ap- pearance of a coach, and the road was bright with the light that shone through the open doors. The day following we reached Cassilis, twenty-eight miles further, where we remained overnight. Then off we went again, arriving at a rough wayside inn, half-way to Gulgong from Cassilis. The house lay on one side of a creek, and the gully was crossed by the most dangerous bridge it has ever been our bad fortune to see. " Bridge " one could hardly call it, for miles went ilgong id the r been it, for A Gold Rush. 121 it was a mere layer or raft of branches thrown loosely across, and filled in with twigs. It was narrow, too, and reached by a sharp descent, so that there was great danger. As the coach jolted over it, the ends of the saplings came flying up one after the other, like the hammers of a piano in a brilliant chromatic scale. At this small hotel the landlord fed us on promises. Every remonstrance we made as to the scarcity of bedding for the horses, or the paucity of diet for ourselves, was received with one unvarying formula — " I'll do the best I can for you, and I can't do more !" He was a type of many hotel-keepers one meets with in the bush. They chop wood, cultivate small plots of ground, have a paddock or two, own a few horses, and manage an inn merely as an adjunct to other business. The isolated situation of this particular landlord gave him a mono- poly, and he was content with serving travellers as if he never expected to see them again. On the fifth day we made an early start, and arrived about eight o'clock at a creek, where we made an excellent breakfast. About two o'clock we reached Gulgong, passing near the town through acres of abandoned gold claims. We had to drive along a narrow path in the midst of innumerable uncouth holes — the locality appearing like the site of some forest of gigantic trees which had been suddenly torn up by the roots. It was a scene of glaring, bewildering confusion. The track wildly wriggled through the embanking mounds of sand, in despair of ever reaching the town, till it emerged entirely from the chaos, and joyfully darted like an arrow down the main street. Gulgong is a large collection of corrugated-iron buildings — shops with great square signs, more prominent than elegant — Chinamen's bazaars — hastily-built hotels, displaying attractive banners — slim cottages, wooden churches, temporary offices, and weather-board banks. The whole place was in the highest degree new. The streets were filled with crowds of miners. The hotel was busy with men inquiring after the manager of this, and the inspector of that — some wishing to deposit money in a benefit society — some waiting for their wages. We have a feeling to this day that we were living at Gulgong in a bustling, enterprising community. We were five days here, and then left for Mudgee, a stage of eighteen miles. On the way, there occurred the most serious accident we had in all our travels. My father and mother were driving quietly along in the buggy. There was a hot sun, and t I \ \ . i \ i I- \ ; \ : •1 1 ■<:!! >: l! V 1 , ■? ■ ■ ■ ■I :1 ! ;( ■m II i !' I !'! t '! I < i. 1 i 8 t i 5 \ \ t ^ 1 tt . J. 122 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. the horse " Billy " was not in a good humour at all. To waken him up a little, my father gave him a touch of the whip. In a moment " Billy " threw up his hind legs — one of them got jammed behind the swingle-bars, and away he wildly bolted on three legs. As on most bush-roads, stumps were plentiful, and "Billy" darted over one of these ; but the front axle came with terrible force upon the stump. My father, thrown out by the shock, fell fortunately on his hands, and escaped unhurt. My mother was shot out violently against a fallen tree, her face striking full upon the rugged trunk. The harness gave way at once, and " Billy " rolled into a trench or furrow of the road just large enough to hold him tight. He lay helpless on his back, with all his hoofs elevated safely in the air — a providential occurrence. My mother was picked up insensible, her face covered with blood from some abrasions on the forehead. We laid her at the foot of a tree, where there was some little shade from the burning sun. After her face had been bathed with water, which we brought from a distant creek, my mother opened her eyes and spoke. Two of us galloped back some miles to get vinegar and brandy, while the rest repaired the damage done to the buggy. The shafts had to be bound up with splints — the swingle-bars held together with rope — the harness mended with twine. By the time we were ready to start, my mother had greatly recovered. When we arrived at Mudgee, we called in a doctor, and in a few days our patient was off the sick list. Sad to relate, the doctor was shortly afterwards drowned while fording a swollen creek not far from the scene of our accident. We had a standing line in our programmes : " Ladies and gentlemen arriving late will kindly oblige by remaining in the lobby till the conclusion of a song ! " To suit all the strange places we sang in, this should have been altered to " kindly oblige by remaining on the stair," " kindly oblige by remaining in the bar," ** kindly oblige by remaining in the vestry," "kindly oblige by remaining in the jury-room," "kindly oblige by remaining in the open air;" and so on. The regulation was the cause of some trouble in Mudgee. One evening, during the third song on the programme, a gentleman demanded admit- tance. The doorkeeper politely requested him to remain out- side, but he tried to force his way in, his hat coming off in the attempt. His friends immediately magnified this into an assault by our doorkeeper, who had all the time remained on the defensive. When the song had concluded, the indignant gentleman called out the whole of his party, twelve in number. Incidents at our Concerts. 123 an ed on gnant mber, who had gone in before the concert commenced. Their money was returned to them, and they left the hall. Those of the audience near the door were astonished — " Do you know who that is ? — that's Mr Z., the biggest bug we have ! " Next day, a gentleman called on us in a friendly way at the hotel, deplor- ing the occurrence, and offering to carry an apology from us to Mr Z., so as to stop any legal action! Of course we declined the offer, for we knew from the testimony of bystanders that our doorkeeper had not gone beyond his instructions. That evening a brass band planted, yea rooted itself under the window nearest to the platform, and played loudlyall through the concert. We offered them a large sum to move on, but they told us candidly they "were paid more money than that to come there !" The incident created some stir in the community. The papers unanimously sided with us, one journal in a neigh- bouring town devoting two columns to a humorous discussion of the matter. As a rule, the public took favourably to this regulation. Sometimes two or three young ladies, on being kept out, would tee-hee, and say to each other, " It's just like being at church!" — sometimes a man would growl, "Is this a prayer-meeting ? " — sometimes a fellow would turn angrily on his heel, go away, change his mind, and return in the middle of a crowd with the air of having just arrived ! But, as a general thing, our audience thanked us for the quietness that prevailed during the singing of a song. On our bills we had also the more common rule : "Children in arms not admitted." It was amusing to notice the way this was evaded. Very often the fond mother would place her infant against the wall, saying, " Ye see the puir thing can stand ! " and again it was no uncommon thing to see a father and mother dragging a suckling between them, almost dislocat- ing its arms, till they got it past the door. In large towns this rule acted well enough ; but in the wide-settled country districts, where our concerts were advertised as much by rumour as by bills, people in ignorance of the " stern law" came long distances with children in arms. Then it was that our materfamilias had a pleasant duty to perform ; for my mother, taking compassion on her country-women anxious to hear a " Scotch sang," looked after their babes in an adjoining room during the concert. Very often she had three or four of these valuable charges at once, the mothers coming out during the " Interval of Ten Minutes " to pet the infants, or give them their natural nourishment. Mudgee to Hill End was our next journey. The bush was ' :' ,1 * I B r t ' k.iil r 124 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. 1 II the same as ever — the same logs, stumps, dry leaves, and tinder — trees blackened and gutted out by camj) fires — trees bare- looking, with the bark lying curled up at their roots, like immense cinnamon-stalks — trees lying stranded on the banks each side of the road, their high limbs jirojccting like masts, their under-branches crushed and shivered — and trees bereft of foliage, giving large patches of bush the anomalous appearance of bleak winter under a melting sun. Ant hills lined each side of the road — sandy heaps, two and three feet high, swarming with bloated, purple insects. We found the ascents to be awful. Looking from the top of a ridge over the great, wide, black sea of forest, we saw the white road dipi:)ing away down out of sight amidst the density of the trees, appearing again on a hill side, sinking once more, emerging higher still, and rising almost vertically to the brow of the opposite heights. We stayed for the night at " Hargreave's," the i)lace where gold was first found in New South Wales. Next day we had soft boggy ground to cross, and steep gullies to ascend. We had several times to jump out of the coach and fill up gaps in the middle of the road with branches and logs crossed over each other, the holes looking as if they had been darned with saplings. We reached the Hill End country — a wild, vast, mountainous region, that appears on the map like a nest of caterpillars — an undulating heaving expanse, full of majestic, deep lying views, with a succession of high rounded hills and towering timbered peaks stretching away to the bluest distance. There was not a foot of level ground as far as the eye could see. We had a succession of hills to ascend — one of them two miles long, a dreary remembrance to us of hoarse yells, thumpings, lashings, and panting horses. At the top there was a smooth, hard road, and in a short time we were in Hill End. The town is excited over its first municipal election. We find the chief street closely packed with human beings eagerly expecting the appearance of the candidates on the hustings — a platform erected in front of the Metropolitan Hotel. We can get nowhere near it, so coach and horses are driven to the hotel-yard by a back street. The crowd is composed principally of miners, who have just left off work, and appear in their every- day clothes. The candidates address the populace. The first, crushing his felt hat under his arm with the earnestness of his speech, vows he will do his utmost to economise the public funds. " Hurrah." The second, almost twisting the buttons *T)1 Afi Election Scene. 125 off his coat, declares he will go in for free education. "Cood for you ! " The third, running both hands nervously through his hair, announces his fixed intention of devoting himself to the mining interest. " Go it, old chap ! " The fourth, with clenched uplifted fists, denounces vehemently the opposition he has received from the despicable Teetotal, Masonic, (lood Templars', and Odd Fellows' Societies, At this there is tre- mendous uproar, and those in front make loud slighting remarks as to the speaker's parentage and fitness for aldermanic honours. A solitary " Hear, hear " from over the way, pro- duces in that cpiarter a decided commotion. The mingled groans, hisses, whistles, and yells arc something deafening, and make the narrow thoroughfare ring again. In the midst of it all, a rough drunken fellow reels out of the bar, and with extended arms staggers edgeways down the steps into the street. Tearing off his hat, he waves it in the air, shouts " Vote for Joe," and is struck a violent partisan blow by some one in the crowd. A fight ensues, the mob throng round, and a policeman, with his hands stuck out before him, wedges through to preserve order. A two-horse waggonette charges amongst the peo])le. Six men are in it. One, disguised in elegant whiskers and a long red pasteboard nose, upholds a blue banner on a striped l)ole — ''Vote for the True Man." Amid loud laughter the vehicle drives on, followed by a score of cabs, each bearing a motto. "Vote for the Pure Patriot." "Vote for the Old Sticker who intends to make the Hill End his Home !" " Don't vote for the Swindler that called you all Swindlers !" "F^lectors, support the man that looks after the Cash ! " The whole hotel is in a fever, and resounds with cries for refreshment. I manage to catch the waiter's ear for one moment — " Awful crowd, eh? you must be off your legs almost?" "Me? ho, ho ! bless you, two years ago during the rush, this used to be everyday work. I'm just getting into my old way again ! " When the result of the polling is announced, another wave of excitement sweeps over Hill End, Our landlord of the " Metropolitan " is one of the nine successful candidates, and treats everyone to free drinks. Brandy and whisky are served out with all expedition, and there is a continued feu dc joie of popping lemonade The town lies in almost inaccessible country. I have given some idea of the road from Mudgee to Hill End, but the country between the latter place and Bathurst is not much better. Every stick of furniture, every article of domestic use, had to come IK f 1 \\\\ 1 m f ■ 1 , t ' i \ \ i I i 126 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. from Bathurst, up Monkey Hill, a terrible ascent, of which I shall speak presently — so that there has been considerable energy and enterprise expended beyond that shown in the develop- ment of the quartz reefs. The first population of 16,000 has diminished to a fraction of that number, the town having fallen into a less feverish and more regular way of doing. We visited the chief wonder of the district, Hawkins' Hill, where are situated the principal reefs. It was the grandest and most picturesque mining spot we had ever cast eyes on. A great bluff or projecting headland stretches out and overhangs the Valley of the Turon. The outer point of it slopes sharply down to the level country bordering on the river, while on each side of the ridge are immense ravines 1500 feet deep. Along the side of one of these gorges, some sixty feet or so down from the brow of the hill, stretches the long close row of mines — a series of low shelving, iron roofed buildings — disgorging torrents of stone and mineral refuse down the precipitous slopes of the ravine. Pack-horses are employed carrying the quartz to the upper ground, some of it in hempen bags, some in raw hide sacks. A wire tramway has been thrown, at a giddy height, across the gorge, for the conveyance of quartz to a battery high up on the opposite hill. The double wire is supported by lofty wooden trellis pillars, which look as if the first blast would sweep them off. The full quartz bags are hooked on one wire and drawn up, while the empty bags return on the other. In July of 1872, fifteen tons of quartz out of Holtermann's claim yielded 7000 oz. of gold ; and at Paxton's, in February of the same year, a crushing of five tons produced iioo oz. This last claim once realised ;^2 5,000 during a single fortnight; and in March of 1872, the Paxton Gold Mining Company was floated, with a capital of ;^i6o,ooo. Our journey to Wattle Flat, the first stage to Bathurst, was really pictorial. We breakfasted twelve miles out at a bush inn, which lay not far from Monkey Hill. In Australia you generally find an inn at the top or bottom of a long heavy hill. While here, we made inquiries as to a shorter road, but were told by a man that it was impassable. Said he, " There's not a drink to be had." "What?" said we — "no water for the horses?" "Yes," he replied, " there's water, but there's no drink for the drivers — there ain't a public-house the whole way ! " Our first trouble was the descent of Monkey Hill, a dangerous place a short time ago, though it has now been macadamised of half its terrors. It is two and a half miles gi The Turon Valley. 127 was )ush you Jhill. kvere lot a the Is no fiole 111, a )een liles long — a winding road, with steep stone-built embankments along the face of deep ravines — the wheels of the coach almost skimming the edge of a precipice on our left hand, while high rocky cuttings rose up on our right. The road at some of the abrupt turns seemed to be running out into mid-air, and at these points was inclined inwards for security. Once, while turning the corner of a hill, we swung round into a burst of scenery unequalled by anything we had as yet seen in Aus- tralia — wide, immense, sunny plains spreading beneath us, with occasional cloud shadows, and hills rising tumultuously around. After we had worn out a couple of old boot-heels on the brake, we arrived at the foot of this long hill. The next section of the journey lay through the Valley of the Turon. We struck the river at one part — the road running along the dry stony channel, with high echoing cliffs towering on either hand, and the wind blowing coldly through the defile. Further on, the road passed through rich, red earthy country. Skirting high ground, we suddenly turned, and lo ! beneath us, close under our feet, we beheld Sofala — a bird's-eye view of corrugated-iron roofs shining, some glittering, in the sun. We could have dropped stones down the chimneys. The town lies close to the Turon, which is backed by large treeless knolls, smooth and rounded 'ike the cone of sifted sand in an hour- glass — the red loam showing dimly through the thin green coating of grass. Paths are cut through these hills at places, looking like deep fleshy scars. Even the road on which we were travelling could be traced far ahead by its bright colour. Sofala we found to be a defunct mining town, apparently given over to whisky and Chinamen, the latter dabblih^; and " fossicking " for bare life along the bed of the river. Bathurst lies on an exposed slope on the south side of the Macquarie river, without shade or shelter, and is built largely of brick — looking, as a facetious Governor once said, as if it had been spread out there to bake. As we drove along the streets we saw stores, warehouses, banks, large drapery estab- lishments, and fine hotels. There was a good deal of traftic, too, and plenty of people on the pavements. The streets are wide and rectangular. In the centre of the town is a large square, occupied by a gloomy jail and a bright new market. At Bathurst we ended our coach-travcUing in New South Wales. We placed our vehicles and horses in the hands of Messrs Choker, Spott, & Co., and on the day fixed we went to the saleyards. About fifty persons were assembled. There ij ;i I , ■' )' 1 ; I ■ ! M EBB '" i ■•: ill; 128 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. were big burly men with thick walking-sticks and stout gold chains ; grooms odorous of stables ; sporting characters in tight trousers ; a butcher or two in blue ; come few men in shirt sleeves ) one or two youngsters ; a dissolute fellow in shabby clothes ', several confidential friends of the auctioneers : and a number of respectable young farmers. Mr Choker, mounting a little rostrum, banged for silence with a stiff paper roll. " Jack, trot out number one, Macgregor, branded X over Z on off shoulder — a good chesnut — make a capital hack — ten pounds offered — M'Cash, this is your lot. Fetch Polly, the bay mare — ah, I call her something worth while, my friends — she's good either in saddle or in harness, single or double — M-ill any one lend me the money to buy her? — eight pounds — eight, eight — she's leg weary just now, but she'll pick herself up again in a paddock — twelve — going at twelve ! Here's Billy, a strong horse as you see — and there's an action for you — what an action ! " " Yes, an action for damages — look at his legs ! " growled the seedy man. " Horse never kicked in his life," said Mr Choker sharply ; " ten pounds — there's muscle for you — put a ton be- hind him, and see what he'd do." "Yes, he'd stand," echoed Growler. " Now, Beery, if you don't want him, dry up ! — fourteen — going — gone ! What do you say to this fine brute Andy — there's an arched neck if you like ! " Beery gave a grunt, and several others laughed. One man burst out with : " That horse's head's loaded with pig-iron ; look how he hugs it between his legs ! " " Out with the grey horse, Mr Spott, branded VW conjoined on near shoulder," cried Mr Choker, getting desper- ate, and slapping down his hat. " Who bids for this magnifi- cent Arab ? " Growler commenced to say something about " Street Arab," but a bystander jerked out his elbow at him, and said, " Keep quiet, will you ! you're a regular noosance ! " The " General " was now brought forward. " Buy him for the Museum," said a big farmer, poking the horse in the ribs with his stout stick. The company did not laugh at the little pony " Jessy," who had been with us in allour journeyings. " There is a nuggety animal for you," said Mr Choker, as Mr Spott wheeled the mare round the yard — "a good stamp of a pony — can carry a lady as safe's an arm-chair — none of you bid ? — four guineas — five — six — really, my feelings, gents ! — eight — going — gone!" Then they all went out to the coach, v.-hich was drawn up to the pavement. The only likely customer was Mr Smith, in the market-gardening line. He thought the vehicle too large for his wants, and so the matter ended. It The Zig-Zag Raihvay. 129 may be as well to state that horse-flesh has not at all the same value here that it has in the old country. The price for a good animal is of course rising in the colonies, but still you can get horses for a half or even a third of the price ruling at home. From Bathurst we went by rail to Goulburn — a distance of 250 miles. Thirty miles of a journey, and we approached the famous Zig-Zag Raihvay across the Blue Mountains. The train entered the Lithgow Valley — a deep ravine with steep precipitous banks, up one of which the train climbed by means of viaducts. Bold irregular pillars of rock rose from the bottom of the valley, and there was a general rough stony grandeur. The railway is a gigantic letter Z. The train puffed up, till at a certain point it came to a standstill. Then it shunted away back up a higher elevation, the engine pushing the carriages before it. When we reached the summit the line curved round, and we saw at one sweep the full extent of the Lithgow Valley, with the three tiers of long white viaducts rising one above the other, and filling up the whole side of the ravine. We went next to the sea-port of Wollongong, by way of coach from Campbelltown. The last few miles led over the BuUi Mountains, a range running along the coast a short distance in from the sea. The vegetation and scenery were alike grand. There were palms, prickly cactuses, tamarinds, and tropical ])lants of many kinds. Large fern-trees grcAv superbly, filling up secluded gullies with their wide-spreading ornamental fronds. From out the density of gum trees and pines rose tall, tapering cabbage palms, their long, thin, branchless trunks surmounted by a round clump of foliage. At two or three openings in the road we had a superb view of the coast, with all its many windings, rocks, and points of land. Wollongong was faintly seen far below, amid a country variegated with cultivation and coal-pits. This district is eminently carboniferous. The BuUi coal-mines are famous, or at least have colonial importance. Descending the range, we passed through the village of BuUi, along a road covered with " slack " or coal refuse. Right glad were we to leave these drifts of coal dust, and ap- proach Wollongong. Not that there was anything very cheerful about this sea-port. It is a decaying place. A man told me that he had seen no difference in it for sixteen years, save the addition of a court-house, a jail, and the abode of a solicitor. It breathes of irregular communication, and is in all respects I t ii li : ii 1 I ■. .' f;^' ■ i. f; 'i W I- ' 130 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. ■ 1 '; 1 \\ •1 :■ '■■ 1 1 ij 1 lllii sluggish. There are many shops and houses, but many shops and houses are shut up. It is a town village, and everyone knows everybody else. Every street looks like a side street — the houses are old and dusty. There are two newspapers published fitfully through the week. Opposite the town, on the sea-shore, extends a long sandy knoll blown up by the wind. It has encroached upon a graveyard near by, and the headstones peep out through the heavy deposits of sand. We sailed to Sydney one afternoon in the small steamboat that trades up and down the coast. The wharf was completely blocked up with butter-carts. Coal and butter are the two great interests of Wollongong. In addition co the country vehicles, the wharf was filled with boxes and parcels — pens of pigs, calves, and cows — wicker-cages of fowls, and rows of butter-kegs. Six horses were put on the steamboat — then hampers of hens were stacked up on deck — then a number of fierce bulls were with great difficulty got on board — and lastly, a mob of pigs were driven on pell mell. We sailed in a disagree- able tumbling sea, with a strong head wind. The pigs seethed about, and filled all the crevices of the ship — the horses struggled and jammed their heads through the openings in the high structure of wicker-cages — the hens cackled, fluttered, and sent their feathers flying thickly aft — the bulls glared, plunged, reared, and butted at the bulwarks, all the while treading down the pigs, who uttered piercing shrieks, and spluttered along the sloppy deck. The smell from the scores of cages, the odour of the pigs, the hot air from the boiler, the steamy breath from the engines, the smoke coming straight astern, tne fetid oil vapours, the pitching and rolling of the little steamer — com- bined to lay every one prostrate with sickness. The sun went down, and we pushed ahead in the darkness. After a dreary interval the light of Port Jackson appeared, and soon we were abreast the entrance. Through the high, black, majestic heads the vessel steamed, borne in as it were on some mighty swell, and in a few minutes we were into the placid harbour. |l|jj|'!l CHAPTER X. A TRIP THROUGH TASMANIA- A CONVICT- -H0I5ART TOWN- -LAUNCESTON. -THE TALE OF We sailed from Sydney for Tasmania. We were three days on the passage to Hobart Town, for which we paid six guineas a head. The steamboat was full of passengers, most of them going to recruit themselves from the enervating heat of New South Wales, Tasmania being the chief resort of people from the vast neighbouring continent. This lovely island is the favourite sanatorium of the colonies, and in climate and situation stands the same to Australia that the Isle of Wight does to England. We sighted the shores of Tasmania — passed a grand line of basaltic cliffs washed into quaint pillars by the sea — and in a short time had sighted Hobart Town. Bright green hills, squared into orchards, and fields, and gardens filled with flowers, stretched up on either hand — the city appearing in front of us, surrounded by delicately-swelling ground, and backed by the massive proportions of Mount Wellington, 4166 feet high. On arriving at the wharf we encountered quite a plague of flies, or rather fly-drivers, and were conveyed to the hotel in a kind of two-wheeled omnibus. Tasmania is a little smaller than Ireland, and has a population of 100,000. The old name of Van Dieman's Land, having an offensive sound, has been changed to Tasmania, in honour of its Dutch discoverer, Tasman — the country, by this act. symbolising the purging away of all unpleasant associations. In 1852 the settlers rose and declared that Tasmania should receive convicts from England no longer, and in due time the system was abolished. Tasmania boasts two cities — Launceston in the extreme north, and Hobart Town in the extreme south. There are really no other towns, the rest of the island lyino^ between these two points being studded by a number of pleasant villages. Hobart Town is the capital, with a population of 20,000, and is prettily situated on the Derwent, just where ■»^ ''ml ■ M H ■ i : ;I •ill f 1 . ! ; i j • 1 1 1 j Ml I . i ^|: II >!i I if. lii »( 1 1* ! I I 111 a i. li 132 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. that clear, beautiful river expands into a handsome bay. It is an old substantial city, being in these two respects greatly unlike the majority of colonial towns. In fact, you scarcely ever imagine yourself at the Antipodes, the appearance of the town is so English. Most of the buildings are of sandstone, which is very plentiful in the vicinity. A number of the houses are very antiquated, with staring white-washed stone fronts, innocent of such luxuries as verandahs or balconies, and looking as if, in the convict times of long ago, people had been infected with a desire to make their houses resemble prisons. These mark one era of the town's history, the other and modern being represented by the many graceful buildings that everywhere meet the eye. There is an excellent town hall, one or two fine churches, several jam-factories and other industries, a large orphan asylum, and two benevolent institu- tions, the last-named sheltering between them five hundred old men. The number of old men to be seen in Hobart Town and throughout the island is something extraordinary. Among the parks and reserves is the Domain, near to which is the Governor's residence, and in the grounds of which we saw convicts at work — not those of English growth, but Tasmanian ; while here also we noticed a fine statue of Sir John Franklin, once Governor of the island. As background to the town, rises, as we have seen, the bulwark of Mount Wellington. Every tourist feels himself called upon to climb this Alp of Hobart Town, and obtain the far-reaching prospect of sea and shore to be had from the top of it. Time did not permit of our indulging in this fatiguing luxury. The temperature of the island is mild, and affords a strong contrast to the Victorian when he crosses Bass's Straits. The Melbourne man goes to Tasmania from a combination of the motives that cause an Edinburgh or Glasgow man to take his wife and family down the Clyde, or urge the whites on the plains of India to fly in the hot season to the cool heights of Simla. When -ve landed in Hobart Town, the weather was cloudy and the air exceedingly sharp, so much so that we had to have a fire in our sitting-room — an agreeable change from the sultry skies of New South Wales. A few days after this, however, it became very warm for a short time, one of the papers announcing the temperature to be 98° in the shade. " It's a downright shame to put that in print," said an irate Hobart- onian, " it gives the colony such a bad name, and none of the Victorians will come over if they fancy it's so hot as that here." lere. Society in Tasmania. 133 Hobart Town and Launceston have their hotels and boarding- houses filled with visitors and tourists during the summer season, and a great deal of business is of course brought into these towns, so that any unfavourable remarks bearing against the specialty of the island (temperate weather) are looked upon with great jealousy. We lived at a very well-conducted hotel, immediately opposite a grand new Episcopalian Church. On Christmas Day we interested ourselves in watching the people assembling for morning service in the church, and were astonished to find the great preponderance of the fair sex. One of us took in hand to count the ladies, another the gentlemen ; and I think the result proved that the former stood to the latter in the pro- portion of five to one. A person might have fancied it was Utah ! This disparity is equally to be noticed at public meet- ings, and especially at concerts, when a gentleman is very often to be seen walking into a hall followed by half-a-dozen ladies. In fact, it is only at certain seasons that balls or fashionable assemblies can be held, gentlemen being usually so scarce that partners are not to be had for love or money. The reason for this sparseness of young men is, that whenever a youth grows up he feels that Tasmania does not afford him sufficient scope, and departs for Melbourne, where he thinks he can better his prospects. As if to make up for this exodus, how- ever, a young man every now and then comes over from Mel- bourne and bears away a Tasmanian girl as his bride. Society in Hobart Town is highly respectable. No person of a morbidly inquisitive turn of mind need come here, for it is as commonplace in its society as anywhere else, and much less gossip is afloat. There is no scandal with reference to such an one's character, parent's character, or relative's character. An old man crossing the street may be pointed out to you as a " lifer," but you look at him with very little interest, remem- bering perhaps that the convict system was unnecessarily severe in the olden time, and that people were transported for trivial offences, or crimes for which the mind has not a great natural repulsion. Many convicts have been sent out for poaching, mutiny, and the like, and you have a lingering pity towards the old exiles. As regards the numerous well-to-do convicts who have risen to be shopkeepers, or hotel-owners, or who fill per- haps the higher offices connected with a town, you are in great measure hft to guess who they are, if your curiosity by any chance should ever rise to such a pitch. You know only that 1.1 ' >. ') t ilii . ' T! ' li: ; 1 s i , ■ 1 1 i . 1 \ ' Kennedy s Colonial Travel. \ I »i w \ : I. ) I i i 1 ! ■ 1 , 11 1 :| It the community is largely permeated with this element, which moves in a distinct circle from the society of persons of more spotless pedigree, a strong but imperceptible barrier dividing the Jews from the Samaritans. As we walked through the streets of Hobart Town, we now and again met faces of the unmistakable convict stamp, but most of the " old hands " are now decent members of society ; their children have grown up respectably ; and the general motto appears to be, " Forget the past." The people of Hobart Town are in a marked degree homely .and hospitable ; and during the comparatively short time we were in the city we met with much private friendship. It was our happy privilege to meet an excellent lady, the granddaughter of Niel Gow, and daughter of Nathaniel Gow, the composer of " Caller Herrin'." We enjoyed the kindly hospitality of herself and her pleasant family. They were very musical. The good lady is a talented teacher of music, and her two sons are organists in the city. At her house we spent Christmas Eve and the last night of the year. One or two hours of music and conversation were succeeded, in each case, by a banquet fit for the gods, and supplemented with raspberries, gooseberries, currants, and strawberries and cream — strawberries and cream better than any strawberries and cream we ever tasted before, or any strawberries and cream we ever hope to meet again. Tasmania is the garden of Australia. All the British fruits grow here in great luxuriance. Besides those already mentioned, we had glorious apricots and plums, mulberries of a richness unex- ampled by any others in our experience, and cherries of a big- ness and lusciousness only excelled by the best productions of the old country. Gardens are very plentiful all over Hobart Town, and every house seems to have an orchard. As you walk along, the trees groan overhead with weight of fruit. The pears and laden apple-boughs droop over the walls within easy reach of your hand. There is no scarcity, and therefore no dishonesty — one could hardly believe in a Hobart Town boy robbing an orchard. The amount of fruit we ate here was remarkable. At frequent intervals throughout the day one or other of us would burst into the sitting-room with a little round basket in his hand, and lifting a cabbage-leaf, exclaim exult- ingly — " There ! did you ever see strawberries like these ? " At the hotel, jam too was in constant supply and demand. This city is famous for its preserves, and the jam-cans of Hobart Town are to be seen in all parts of the colonies, though the Hobart Tozun. 135 protection tariffs of Victoria prevent the fullest development of this peculiarly Tasmanian industry. Had this been an American town, it would long ago have been called Jamborough or Jellyville. During Christmas time the shops were decked with shrubbery, fruits, and flowers, and everybody seemed bent on enjoying themselves. On Christmas Eve the streets were lighted up with the bright gleams from the shop-windows, and crowds of people promenaded down the middle of the thoroughfare. The weather was irreproachable, being sunny and not too warm. New Year's Day was celebrated with races at a place a little way out in the country. They passed off successfully. One of the racehorses was said to have run more than commonly well, though in ilie morning the poor beast had to convey a load of spectators to the course, while in the evening he had to take them back again ! The people of Hobart Tou-n are very musical, and support a fine choral society. In their appreciation of the Songs of Scotland they were not behind any other portion of the Anti- podes, and the success we met with in Hobart Town was continued throughout the island. Hobart Town is 1 20 miles from Launceston, and a splendid road runs north and south through the island, connecting these two towns. Imagine a road as long as from London to Birmingham, good all the way, through a country but thinly inhabited, and not able, as one would think, to pay for such an undertaking. This important highway, unsurpassed by any other in the colonies, was made entirely by convict labour, which some say is the dearest of all labour ; and great pains seem to have been expended on the work, for the road still wears well. The journey between the two towns of Tasmania is accomplished in twelve hours, an average of ten miles an hour. All things here have a British tinge about them, and the public coach is no exception to the rule. Every day we saw " Page's coach," as the old line is called, starting from the office in Hobart Town. It was a regular old English coach, carrying a guard in a crimson coat, and armed with a shrill horn. We drove through Tasmania in a coach which we hired from a private cab-owner, and which was driven by his son. First we went to New Norfolk, a delightful journey of twenty- one miles. The road was level, and followed the windings of the Derwent. The views were always delicious — the cows, the fields, the trees, the river, and the hills were all pictorial. The ;h \ I 1 , '1= i ; II. 1,1 \ ? li 136 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. roud was sometinies like an English lane, nearly always like an English highway. Apple-trees swept past us frecjuently, and the air was sweet with the mingled fragrance of hawthorn and rich pasturage. When close to New Norfolk, we drove down a long lane of high hedges, through breaks in which appeared flourish- ing hop-fields, like any of those in Kent, and shortly had reached the English-looking village. Near here are the famed Salmon Ponds, where the Tasmanians are trying with might and main to introduce the much-valued fish. The landlord of the hotel here, an elderly man, who seemed to have "roughed it" in a jolly way through life, ])roved a really good soul. He was pressing for us to have a drink and a talk with him. This veteran host had been actually fifty-two years m Tasmania. He was the oldest inhabitant ; everybody knew him, and he knew most other ])eople. He detailed some experi- ence of the early days. In former times, it would seem con- victs were nothing else than slaves ; or, which was the same thing, were let out as servants to the settlers. Some of these, however, acted well towards the convicts, and very often one of the latter, on getting a ticket-of-leave, preferred staying by his master. The slaves in the Southern States of America, after the emancipation, furnished many examples of this. Other employers, again, and those who had once been convicts themselves, were very cruel to their men, giving them, on the slightest provocation, a note to the magistrate, saying, — " Please give bearer twenty-five lashes, and return him." Now and again this missive was never delivered, the wretched con- vict escaping to the hills, where he had the alternative either of death by starvation, or a return to a twofold worse slavery than before. True, there was another resource open to the more daring spirits. They became bushrangers, robbed tra- vellers, lived on occasional provisions sent them by sympathiz- ing villagers, or those who desired immunity from plunder, and altogether led a short, restless, unhappy sort of life. In this way our genial New Norfolk landlord gossiped of ^' auld lang syne" in Tasmania. Next day, as we were travelling along, we noticed an old man slowly ploughing a field. " There's no young men to be had for eight shillings a week," commented our driver ; "that's all they offer here; people can get more than that in Victoria." Twelve shillings a week and board is not an uncommon thing, but we knew one gentleman here who employed a ploughman who had been working for him ten years at eight shillings a old had t's all )ria." |liing, iman igs a Scots Kirks in Tasmania. 137 week. Tasmania cannot hold its own against the other colonies at this rate. Going from Humilton to Bothwell, our driver was in great terror of a certain hill, which, however, with our recent experi- ence of roads, we could afford to laugh at. Our coach being high, it was capital fun dodging the limbs of trees that hung down across the road. Every sweep of a branch over us left a shower of insects upon our coats — grubs, caterpillars, glittering beetles, red spiders, blue sjjiders, green spiders, and some like animated ornamental shirt-studs and diamonds. This msect jewellery was very interesting. We toiled along, and soon reached the pretty village of Bothwell, from whence our young driver immediately telegraphed to his fiither that we had arrived so far safe over the dangers of the road ! As usual, an old stableman hobbled out and saw to the horses. All through the island the hostlers are feeble old men. Like Hamilton, this was a farming centre. The only building that catches the eye is the Episcoi)alian Church, which is like most of the churches in these small towns, all seeming to have been built on the same plan and measurement. The Church of England clergyman preaches in the building in the morning, the Presbyterian in the evening ; which all will allow is a very pleasing arrangement. The organ plays voluntaries during the Presbyterian service, and Anglican hymns are by no means shirked. One form of worship does not graft well upon another. The Scottish service lost its characteristic staidness in face of the interior arrangements of the church ; but, in a small community, such an accommodation must be commended as sensible and highly liberal. One of the three Presbyterian churches in Hobart Town had an organ, as is the rule in a good many of the Scotch churches in the neighbouring colonies, and one Sunday the voluntary at the close was a *' Procession March." It was so peculiar to hear this crash of harmony coming in at the end of our quiet Presbyterian service. Another church in Hobart Town was of quite a different nature, being like too many of our home churches. The pews, for instance, were narrow, and had straight backs, and were therefore uncomfortable. Launceston, as we afterwards saw, has what we might call a Presbyterian High Church, with a brass-piped organ, voluntaries, and all. The churches here are in the midst of strife. Probably in no other part of the world is the Presbyterian Church in so unsatisfactory a condition as in Tasmania. Some of the ^ iht if I* 1, \l nn f ^; II 138 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. Ill grievances and internal dissensions are of so long standing that they can he estimated hy years, and have become a hy-vvord to the outside colonial world. Ministers leave, temporary substi- tutes come, no one can be settled in the charge, and the con- gregation dwindles away. Church, too, wrangles with church on matters of finance and ecclesiastical ])roi)erty — a fertile ground of ill-feeling in other countries than Tasmania. Mu of the dissatisfaction that prevails may be traced to ti fact that there is here a lack of that reverence which the people at home have for the clergyman. There is a want of cohesiveness in the mass of the congregations ; the people shift about fre(iuently, and the relations between them and the pastor are not of a close or binding nature. Clergyman and congregation very often both desire a change, and the former never seemed to us to have the feeling of being firmly settled in, or identified with, his charge. More constancy on both sides would greatly impro\'e matters. Certainly we found in Tasmania not a few snug, wliat we might almost call " domestic " congregations. V>\\\. in the majority of cases the office of clergyman is no more to many peop) j than the pr- fession of doctor or lawyer. One likes to hear folks talk with friendly respect of " our minister." We found it often, . manner if not in speech, to be, *' Mr So-and-so, the gentleman who preaches on Sunday." We had scarcely been ten minutes in Bothwell when the secretary of the local cricket club invited us to join in the usual Saturday afternoon game, and of course my brothers and I gladly availed ourselves of the kind offer. The sport took place in one of the numerous paddocks about the place. The club consisted principally of the tradesfolks ; also several persons who, from their bare black arms and hands, had apparently just left off work in a blacksmith's shop ; and last, not least, the rector of the village, who was as ofi-hand and jolly as any other member of the team. The game progressed. The churchwarden bowled to the rector — the ball skipped over the wickets, and the wicket-keeper, as he caught the ball, made a " stump " speech to the effect that the bat had tipped it. The umpire being appealed to, that functionary confessed " he hadn't been looking." Then half-a-dozen voices said they would leave it to the rector ; but he laughingly said he would not crimii.wte himself, pled not guilty, and resumed his play. It was a cosy, sociable company of folks, and we felt as much at home as if we had known them for weeks. leave lii-ute :osy, las if An " 0/d Handr 139 The Presbyterian minister here had his temporary ** study" in one of the i)arlours of the hotel. Tliis house was further made respectable by an extraordinary number of portraits of John Knox that graced the rooms. We had a capital dinner, though this meal was always good in Tasmanian hotels, and slept on substantial four-post bedsteads — furniture nearly un- known on the Australian continent. Next day (Sunday) the heat of the past few days was exchanged for cold rainy weather, and it was strange to see us sitting round a blazing log-fire, warm- ing our sunburnt hands ! On Monday we drove up to a wayside inn. A group of men had gathered round the door, and were chafling an elderly, rough-dressed fellow, evidently an " old hand." " Bill, how's yer little farm ? That pays ye better than ycr old trade, eh ? " '*■ Come, now," retorted the old man, " my other biz was pro- fitable enough — many's the handkerchief 1 nipped up, as neat as any man as ever lived ; but my fingers is stiff now to what they used to be in the good old days — see, they'll hardly curl up anyhow ; but I'll stick a bullock with any man here!" **Now, you chaps," remarked one man, " do you know that Bill here was once in the bushranging trad.', him an' a batch of other fellows, and when the police got after them one day, they all ran away, 'ceptin' Bill here — he tl ''ow up bis hands an' pre- tended he'd been robbed by the other coves — sharp practice, ch ? Didn't he get sweet things said about him by the autho- rities, too ! an' you was the worst o' the gang, wasn't you. Bill?" " Of course I was ; but I'll stick a bullock with any man here !" This old convict evidently had his tongue loosened a little by " nobblers. " As a connnon thing, individuals may confess they have been " sent out," but it is always a most trivial affair they have been guilty of. Something or other has been " lying around loose." A man once remarked that he had only been " throwing a bit of lead about," which, however, turned out to be a case of pistol-shooting ! We arrived at Green Ponds, a pleasant farming township. The day was spent with some acquaintances, who lived at a homestead a little way off. " The Grange," as they called it, consisted of a fine house, situated at the foot of some good- sized timbered hills. There were other visitors besides us, and after dinner we all had a game at cricket in a forty-acre pad- dock. One of the party saddled a horse and rode off a mile and a quarter to the village for a good ball. The game was played both by ladies and gentlemen, though the fair sex, while I:::' \ n ' < ! 1 i i ,i 1 1'!! i« i 1 ' s I t ■ 1 t 1 ^1 : !l i h •'II M: Ilcf m ^ 140 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. doing their " fielding," showed a strong disposition to sit together in a clump under shadow of parasols. When cricket had finished, we had a delicious drink of "raspberry fool," or raspberries mashed up in cream and sugar. We met here two very decent young men, the sons of Glasgow merchants, who were doing the tour of the colonies, partly for business, partly for pleasure, and partly on account of delicate health. We were always coming across them in our travels. We parted first in Melbourne, promising to call upon them when we reached Scotland — then saw them a short time afterwards in Sydney, where we again took a last good-bye — then bade them adieu once more in Tasmania here; an<\ lastly, said another farewell to them in Melbourne. We are not quite sure if we have seen the last of them yet. They were fine fellows, and something above the average young men we met in the colonies. Not that the " colonial " is an inferior sort of person, though the young man in a new country, far from the old centres of civilisation, is an individual to be pitied. There is an absence of that immediate bustle, life, and discussion of important events or great questions which press in upon one at home, like a strong atmosphere, at so much to the square inch. Out here, of course, there are numerous libraries and reading- rooms, but there is none of that glorious national history which makes a person proud of his country. The colonial youth, I have no doubt, feels some interest in the land where he was born and brought up ; but as the history of the colonies i:j as yet only that of material prosperity, the young man must of necessity be greatly material in his views. In Melbourne we met a young man from Launceston, who was an unfair sample of the rising Tasmanian, though one of a large class in the colonies — persons v ho are lacking in a strong moral sense — who will detail an arrant swindle on some one's part, and then, with open admiration, speak of the fellow as deserving all the success he got. This Launcestonian was scarcely a worshipper of fraud, but he had an undisguised regard for what he called ** smartness." Four miles from Green Ponds we came to Melton Mowbray, named after the English town of sporting and pork-pie celebrity. Here the Tasmanian landed gentry have established a hunting club, and it is said to be one of the prettiest sights to see them following a " drag " — red-coated riders, real harriers, and all ! At inore than one place were the ruins of the barracks built and used by the prisoners during the construction of this road. The Life in a Country Tow7i. 141 buildings are nearly all unroofed now, and are nothing but massive stone walls, without any pretensions to style in archi- tecture. The country was beautiful. But, as in many views about this country, there was great solitude. Our spirits felt oppressed by the want of human life and industry. The aspect of the hills appeared to bespeak quietness — the very air seemed laden with stillness — the absence of rural pursuits robbed a landscape of one of its principal charms. The pace of our team, too, was not so quick as to impart any sentiment of life to the occasion, and our driver was stolid to all our quiet hints. When we remarked the axles were getting hot, he said the wheels had been fresh oiled in the morning — when we suggested that perhaps the harness might burst, he eased our minds by telling us he had plenty more — and when we praised the extra- ordinary " reserve of power " there was in the horses, he seemed as pleased as possible ! We crossed the river Jordan, and passed through Jericho, wondering at the strangeness of the names, though at Green Ponds we had heard of two adjacent villages, called Bagdad and Jerusalem. A coach came towards us with its horses in full canter, and on the box-seat the new Governor of Tasmania, Mr Weld, who was on his way to Hobart Town. Of course we all took off our hats and gave a loyal cheer, which was courteously acknowledged by his Excellency. Twenty-three miles brought us from Green Ponds to Oatlands, a township with a very appropriate name, as it lay amidst fields. Life in these townships must be dull. As an old lady here told us, "It was vegetating, not living." At another township, a stranger one day came into our sitting-room, the landlady whispering us that this was an independent man " dying for society." He was rich, she said ; but money could not buy company. So we tried to banish his ennui by talking to him, though his loftiness of manner was not very attractive. He said he had been born in Tasmania, but that his father had come out to this colony fifty-two years ago ; implying by this, as well as by other remarks, that his ancestry was irreproachable. Oatlands stands 1300 feet above the sea, and is half-way between Hobart Town and Launceston. The hotel was pretty comfortable, though it did not boast of " high living," the bedrooms scarcely allowing a person to stand upright. Our hair turned white in a single night, not from "sudden fear," but from whitewash off the ceiling ! One morning, my father had started a long time before the 1 ;:; in ill i\ '■ 'ri; : M f I t 1 i •1 li \' I ; f' f li ji ^1 Hll 'ti 142 Kennedys Colonial Travel coach, for the weather was cold, and he wanted a walk. While going along, he heard the bark of a dog, and, looking on one side, saw the animal keeping watch over a man lying sleeping by the roadside, with his feet in a ditch. The fellow was blind, evidently a tramp, and somewhat ragged and rickety in appearance. The barking of his faithful companion woke him instantly. "Eh — what — how — who's that?" My father in- formed him who he was. " Ech, gosh ! ye're a Scotchman then !" "Yes, and you're Scotch too." " Michty ! ye're richt there," exclaimed the blind man ; " am frae K a' the way — am noo fifty-seven year auld, an' lost my e'e-sicht six year syne in an accident at the making o' the railway." " Where did you sleep last night ? " " Oh, I just lay doon on the stanes o' a pavement — man it was cauld. The nicht afore, I was lying in the bush, an' when I got up I forgot the place whaur I'd been sleepin', so I lost ane o' my boots — a big ane I had for my left fut." " Have you been long out in this country ? " " Lang ! dae ye ken what I am ? I'm a ten- yearer — Lord Fooshy M'Cawd lagged me, an' I'll just tell ye boo that wiz — but we maun be gangin'." So they walked on together, while the blind man related the story of his ''lagging " in the following strain : — " Man, I was a swank, soople chiel when I was young. A big family there was o' us — twenty-wan used to sit doon at oor table thegither. Weel, I fell in wi' a lass servin' at Lord Fooshy M'Cawd's, but her faither wadna hae me, so I said I wad gang awa'. I listed in the Lancers, an' went doon wi' them to their barracks at Hounslow Heath. Then a letter cam, saying that if I was to see my faither livin' I wad ha'e to come doon at once an' see him, for he was taken ill — so, after some trouble, I got to Scotland again. My mither fell into my airms — an' how prood they a' were to see me in my blue uni- form an' sword. My faither got better, an' I went to the castle, whaur Jess my sweetheart was, an* the folk there keepit me for days. It was arranged that we twa should get married, an' married we were. Lord Fooshy M'Cawd bocht me oot o' the sodgers an' made me his coachman, so I was as comfortable as I could wish." Here the blind man became less loquacious. " Ae day," said he, " when I was dustin' my maister's coat, a roll o' notes as big as my fist, look, fell oot o' ane o' the pockets. I took it up, an' I felt the edges o' the notes, sae crisp an' temptin'. Man, it was awfu' temptin'. I got on the fuddle then, an' Lord Fooshy gae me my dischairge, for he saw I was an' i:'^; The Tale of a Convict. 143 spendin' mair money than I could possibly hae frae him. It was an awfu' jollification, for there was mair than four hunder pounds od, ye ken." He said this with no expression of con- trition in his voice whatever, but in a bragging, " deil-ma-care " kind of way. Then came the pitiable ending of his story. " After a time the money was missed, an' I was put in the jail. Then I was tried, an' got ten years. Man, there's real decent justice in Scotland — in England it wad hae been for life." This he said with a tone of no regret, no word for his suffering wife and children. " Then they shipped me ower the seas to Van Dieman's Land here ; an' I've spent mony happy days in this pairt o' the world. I was at Norfolk Island, tae, whaur they were hangin' them in ae yard, lashin' them in anither, an' feedin' them wi' parritch in the next. Eh, it was rum times ! I was a gude scholar — better than the stupid English folk that were sent oot at the same time as me — they had nae eddication, an' were just lumps o' meat. I could read an' write, an' this gave me some advantages in the jail. Gosh ! the Scotch folk mak the best prisoners ! I was happy a' the while I was a ticket-o'- leave,but whenever I becam' a free man my troubles commenced, an' I fell doon in the world. But I keej) up my heart — my dog an' me gets ae meal a day, an' we're as jolly as ye can think. I'm aff noo to the shearin' at Launceston. There ye hae the whole o' ma history." "How far is it to the half-way house?" asked my father. " Twa mile," promptly replied the blind man ; but on reaching the place he gave a start and said, in a tone of injured self- respect, " Why, it was only ae mile ; I've lost coont durin' the fine crack we hae hane thegither." At the inn a substantial meal was given him, followed by a glass of the generous ale brewed in Tasmania, and then we shook hands and saw the last of this poor waif of humanity. From Campbelltown we drove through bush-country, start- ling scores of rabbits, those unmitigated pests of the island. Close to Evandale we had to cross a small river, only a foot and a half to two feet deep, with its pebbly bed showing up clearly in the shallow water. Our driver was extremely fright- ened when he saw it — his alarm reached its height when the horses stopped in the middle to have a drink ; and he vented a great sigh of relief when we got safely into the town. Here he again telegraphed to his father. At Evandale we took up quarters in an old-looking hotel, which displayed the sign and portrait of " The Patriot King, AVilliam IV." !i #^ » % V- 5 icli M 1 1 1$ m 1^ f' i it ]^ll I 'T 144 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. i ! Evandale is a station on the Launceston and Deloraine Railway, which runs a distance of forty-five miles through a fertile, 3;rain-bearing district. A stranger never altogether finds ojt how or at whose expense this short line was built. The Government subsidised it, private individuals invested large sums in the undertaking, the shopkeepers of Launceston were taxed for it, and the little towns along the line had to pay in proportion to the benefit they were supposed to receive from it. The townspeople, many of them, refused to pay the tax, and then ensued wliat were called the Launceston Riots, when the malcontents rose and for a time resisted the distraining of their goods. The blending of Government, municipal, and private enterprise has made no end of complication. We went down the line to the termiims, Deloraine. On the platforms of the various stations were to be seen numbers of persons with an English provincial look — clean-shaven men, with florid, full faces, portly paunches, and all the appearance of the typical John Bull. A great man} shearers, too, were on the trains. One man told us he got twelve shillings an acre for cutting grain, six days' work sometimes bringing him as much as ^^3, for he cut five acres a week, The whole of this neighbourhood swarmed with shearers, many of whom had tramped, or " swagged it," from considerable distances. At Westbury, a pretty town, we spent a Sunday, and as there was no Presbyterian place of worship, nothing but an English Church and a Roman Catholic Chapel, we walked, in the true old fasluon, three miles and "a bittock" to a Scotch Church at the village of Hagley. The church was small, and the folks sat on plain forms without backs, while the minister preached at a reading-stand in a recess. The congregation, judging from the high healthy colour of their skins, were one and all engaged in out-door work during the week, and seemed a respectable, attenti\'e people. There were about one hundred present. The collection was taken uj) by two elderly members, one with a napkin-covered dish, the other gathering the money in an open Bible. It was a quiet, homely service. Laimceston is a fine city, and not behind the southern metro- polis ill the size or elegance of its buildings. It is situated on the River Tamar, \i^hich here is to be seen flowing in many wind- ings towards the sea, through level country widely bounded by moderately-large hills. At the back of the town appear several heights, on which one or two of the streets rise at a considerable gradient, furnishing some excellent views of the city, the clear lere true :hed ed ig The the and- ^dby veral rable Latinceston. 145 river, and the far-spreading green landscape. The weather for the first two or three days was very hot — the thermometer registering from 96° to 110° in the shade. One day it was 123° in the sun. I scarcely know what we should have done during this hot season but for a capital bath here. It was in connection with an antiquated exhibition kept by an old man who had devoted forty years to the amateur study of science. The dingy estab- lishment was littered with all sorts of scientific toys — for they could be called nothing else, and he himself only an old child. The place was dusty in appearance, musty in smell, and filled with stereoscopes, orreries, magnets, clock-work toys, shelves of ancient books, old prints, old models of ships, velocipedes, round-abouts, figure-heads of ships — all conceivable kinds of odds and ends — the oldest of old curiosity shops. It was in the back-garden of this queer shop that we bathed — the bath being an open-air pool, surrounded by a wooden fence and concealed by high trees. It was an enjoyable, secluded spot. In the Mechanics' Institute we heard Romberg's " Lay of the Bell," performed by the Launceston Musical Union. It was a very creditable concert, and well attended. The hall, we noticed, was surrounded by portraits of the Queen and the Prince and Princess of Wales. The people here are very loyal — I shall not say more loyal than the Scotch or the English, but at all events not less so. This evening was concluded by an elaborate performance of " God save the Queen " — solo, duet, trio, quartette, and chorus — no programme in Tasmania being thought complete without the national anthem. We gave our entertainments in this Mechanics' Institute to as kindly, orderly, and ai)preciative audiences as we have met with in any part of the world. On Saturday night we strolled through the town, under the bright light of the moon, and were surprised to see the great crowds of people that were out promenading and shopping. During our walk we met in with a tall, brawny, liorder man, who had been a great many years " out," and had lost not the slightest inflection of his vigorous accent. He voluntarily con- fessed to having had two "laggings," but whether he was trying our gullibility or not we could not see, as he was standing in the shade. There was not the slightest reason why he could not have been a poacher — indeed, he hinted to us something about his great delight at home being the shooting of game. He was a big, stalwart, " dare-deevil " — a man, as we thought, K i i '! j{! m ii m nih m ' I itif II m i i \l ;! ! i ri'ii 146 Kennedy's Colonial Travel, fit at any time for a night struggle with a gamekeeper. But it may have been all our extravagant imagination ! One of the townsfolk kindly offered us the use of his boat, which he said was " the best-looking craft on the river." This gentleman's house was closely situated on the banks of the Tamar, the willows that grew at his back-door hanging down into the stream. Near by, the South Esk, a small tributary of the Tamar, flowed out between a break in the hills. The mouth of the Esk is crossed by as pretty an iron bridge as you will see in many a long day. We rowed underneath it, and went quietly up a narrow steep gorge. The river is hemmed in by high, precipitous rocks, with clumps of trees protruding here and there, while the water is glassy and deep, owing to the narrow channel. No sounding has been reached in many places. Occasionally, as we glided along, several daring boys, who were enjoying a bath, would come swimming round the boat, while other youngsters, in an Adamite condition, would peep from behind the rocks on shore. We went on till we reached what the folks proudly term the " Cataract,'' where the river pours over the rocks in fine rapids. The view of Launceston, as seen through the graceful span of this bridge, is really very striking, the trellised ironwork of the arch forming an elegant framework to the picture. Most of the export and import trade of Tasmania is done from Launceston. It is the centre of the commercial life of the island. Launceston is what may be called the capital of Northern Tasmania. Hobart Town is a quiet, snug, steady- going, essentially characteristic Tasmanian town, the goal of summer visitors. There is not much in common between the two cities, and a person cannot help wondering at how little they know of each other. One would think their interests at all events would be identical ; but, as the saying is, " They'd even have another Governor, and split off, if they could." This would certainly be ruinous policy ; for as it is, a Governor, Parliament, and all the expensive machinery of legislation, seem a little too heavy a burden for Tasmania. We saw the last of Tasmania in magnificent weather. The sail from Launceston down the Tamar — beneath a warm, lovely sky, with the river sleeping under a soft haze, and reflecting on its unruffled surface every tree, bush, and rock upon its banks — will not be forgotten by us. It made us think more highly than ever of this beautiful part of the world. All the features of Australian scenery are here compressed into bijou landscapes. Tl an A\M isk an( La be: reg Tasmania. 147 The delight of river and lake and sea is nearly always present, and the scenery is never tame, while the climate is delightful. We were transported, not to, but with the charming little island. Considering its antecedents, it is a wonderfully decent and orderly colony. No one with the name " Van Diemen's Land " sounding in his ears can have any idea of the present beauty, the quiet air of respectability, that now pervades regenerated " Tasmania." II rl! , a ! \\ m ' 1! : M { ., i? f % 1 » . h:tii f < \ \ • \ \ 'I ■ % % 5 i ' j i i 14 ■i 1 i 1 1 1! ■l . i ' m V t| ; aL 1 CHAPTER XI. SOUTH AUSTRALIA — ADELAIDE — A FEAST OF GRAPES — A PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES — THE COUNTRY TOWNS. Adelaide, the capital of South Australia, is 480 miles by sea from Melbourne. This colony is misleading in its title, for it lies north-west of Victoria, which latter colony, being the most southern portion of the Continent, would better have deserved the name of South Australia. Adelaide is situated much farther north than Melbourne, and the climate of these cities is very distinct. It is quite an important journey between the two capitals. We were fifty hours on the trip from Melbourne. The captain, strange to say, was the same one that brought us over from New Zealand, and now officiated in the absence of the regular captain, who was down with the measles. This com- plaint was very prevalent in Melbourne and Ballarat, and many stalwart men were seized by it. We became acquainted with one of the passengers, a gentleman with florid face and light side whiskers. He grew exceedingly confidential after a while — told us he was the son of a prominent English lord, and knew all the members of the aristocracy. He thought that he might — yes, he was certain he would — be missed in the drawing- rooms of England, for he was very intimate with the Prince of Wales, and often took a chop with him. But he preferred a roving kind of life, and was travelling to amuse himself. He had just come down from Queensland, where he had been shooting fowl, but (confounded nuisance !) his man-servant had recently left him to get married, and that put an end to all his duck-hunting. Another passenger was a silver-haired, talkative, blase " world-tourist," as he might be called. " I'm now on my usual annual tour," said he. " My town house is in Belgravia, London, where I've got ferns from all the mountains on the globe. The Himalayas are my principal rendezvous, and I occasionally spend a day or two in the Vale of Cashmere. Then there are Burmah, China, Japan, and Russia — all favourite touring grounds of mine. I've been all round Greece Adelaide. 149 and Italy, the shores of D. 1 recruit myselt sometimes the Mediterranean, and, in fact, you may say I've done the Seven Churches of Asia ! " The steamer arrived at Port Adelaide, nine miles from Adelaide, where the train was to take us up to the capital. While waiting in the station we spent a few moments in the refreshment-room, where we bought grapes at twopence and threepence a-pound. We had heard a great deal beforehand of Adelaide grapes, and we were not disappointed either in their quality or cheapness. The station was railed off, and the passengers were kept in a kind of pen till the train came up. Then a gate was opened, and the people flooded in — first, second, and third class all jumbling together, and anybody taking any seat they could get. The railway company seemed to have great faith in the public, for if so disposed, you could travel first class with a third-class ticket, the tickets not being taken up till you were leaving the station at Adelaide. Nearly every person, however, travels second class, the carriages being very comfortable. Adelaide is a fine city, with a population of 30,000. Its streets are wide, clean, and run at right angles like a gridiron. Its buildings are splendid. The post-office, town-hall, and others, have elegant towers — several have graceful Corinthian fagades. Numbers of well-built ornamental churches stud the city. Adelaide is built on flat ground, and backed at a distance of four or five miles by a fine mountain range. There are excellent public gardens and reserves in and about the city, which is squared in with four Terraces — North, South, East, and West, that encompass Adelaide like a frame. The Botanical Gardens are a favourite walk of the citizens on Sunday afternoons. Here, in addition to trees and plants of every kind, are monkeys, emus, Brahmin bulls, eagles, and some of the camels used in the explorations to the interior of Australia. On the streets of Adelaide we saw now and again dark-skinned Malays, who had been either in the late journey of the Messrs Forrest from Western Australia to South Australia, or the expedition sent from Adelaide to the Gulf of Carpentaria with the great Overland Telegraph Line. This latter work was undertaken solely by the colony of South Australia, and consisted in erecting a telegraph line across the great Australian Continent, so as to place the Antipodes in direct communication with the mother-country. The weather \ i hill ; ! I* I I 1. 1 ; I , I ! ' ! h .;! iiiS \\\ \% during day superb, I ill i 150 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. the sky at night clear and brilliant. The moon shone over the trees in the gardens, and against the pale-looking walls and ornamental towers of the buildings, producing a dreamy, poeti- cal appearance that was quite enchanting. The streets seemed only half-lit by the gas-lamps, which grew dim under the staring white lunar eye. A noisy, rough crowd would have broken the spell that hung over the town, but there were only one or two flitting figures that disappeared in the shadows of porticoes or angles of walls. Being the month of February, the weather was very warm. If not the warmest, Adelaide was at anyrate the brightest, sunniest place we had ever been in. The sun beat down baking hot upon the pavements, and the heat penetrated into every room of the hotel. If you picked up a book to read, your eyes began to swim in your head, and you felt inclined to spend life on a sofa. If you tried to have a snooze, you found you could not sleep. If you went into the open air, the ground radiated the heat into your face, while the sun waxed hot above. Our life during this season mms as follows. Awaking in the morning from a not very refreshing night's rest, we took break- fast with what little appetite we had. Then walking slowly down the hot street, the white glare of which was very hurtful to the eyes, and explained the reason so many ladies wore coloured spectacles, we arrived at the city baths, where we had an enjoyable dip. Somewhat cooled down, we proceeded to the free public reading-room, which is the best of its kind we have seen in the Australian colonies. Here every English magazine, no matter how sectarian, technical, or exclusive, is to be seen, and all the principal newspapers of Great Britain, giving one as exhaustive an idea of the serial literature of the day as if he were living in London. Then we returned to the hotel, where a feast of grapes was at once laid out. We bought them from an Irishman across the way who kept a little grocery shop, and who made a practice every evening of leaning against his door-post and playing " Monymusk " on a tin whistle, with what he thought an admirable imitation of the bagpipes. Grapes in Adelaide, we found, sold at the almost incredibly low price of three-farthings a-pound — and these the very best of grapes — luscious, " melting clusters," such as you never see at home. You can get them for eight shillings a hundredweight, and very often for ^4 a ton. The market price scarcely covers the expense of pulling them. In Adelaide you have always the idea of a wealth of fruit. Our sitting-room from IS ought low St of ,ee at eight, ircely have from A Plague of Mosquitoes. 151 morn to night looked like some Roman banqueting-hall. Every now and then one of us would come in, like a Bacchus, with an armful of bunches of fat purple grapes, and a lady of the party, like the goddess Pomona, with a pai)er-bag of apples and j)ears. We had a centre-dish on the table constantly run- ning over with grapes. In the morning one of my brothers would make a large purchase of them, and a little while after- wards another would come in joyfully with seven or eight pounds more, exclaiming, " What ! have you bought them too?" Then a friend would call in and say the fruiterer had not served us at all well, which meant that in the course of the day a boy would call and deliver a large box of gra])es, " with Mr So-and- so's compliments." One family, with whom v.e became very intimate, lamented they could not present us with some fruit from their own vines, as their horse had broken loose in the backyard one night and devoured all the best bunches. We might say we lived on grapes in Adelaide. At night we could not sleep for mosquitoes. Long, unquiet hours we spent, lying awake and slapping at these annoying insects, which here were more than commonly impudent in their trumpet-tones, more than usually virulent in their stings. The mosquito is something like a gnat in general ai)pcarance — has a speckled body, long legs, and sharp, hollow ])roboscis. As he hovers about he sings, and when he alights for business becomes all at once silent. He settles, say, on your hand, and you watch him giving his tube a few flourishes at the start, like a carver's knife over a desirable roast — then you feel a slight sting, and know he has " struck ile." Down, down, down you see his sucker going, the mosquito gradually getting on tiptoe, till he almost stands on his head. Then a " thin red line " is seen forming on his body, which swells and swells till you fancy the insect is going to burst, when off he flies to roost on the bed-curtain or the wall. While in this tori)id condition you give him a tremendous slap, and on removing your hand behold simply a red spot. But it is when you lay your head down to rest that you appreciate the full malignity of these insects. They sing about your ears in duet, trio, and chorus ; and, when a lot of them get together, they seem like a musical mist. Ping- ng-ng ! They fly past you with swift crescendo and as sudden diminuendo, filling your ear with sound as a flash of lightning does your eye. One comes sailing along with a voice like a penny trumpet played under two layers of bed-clothes, and you trace him by the " perspective of sound " — now near, now far — when of a sudden he stops. Whack ! you hit yourself a loud If M. i I I , Ii w : i i . i! H w ■1 ■ i f 1) ill ■ I 1 IIM 1 1 m M 1 152 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. slap on the check. Ha ! the monster starts off singing, and once more returns to the attack. Good gracious ! he is joined by another with a voice as sharp and incisive as the point of a needle. Ping-ng-ng ! Whack ! You miss him, for he snarls at you and flies back with increased vehemence. And so on — on — on for a whole night, till you never get a wink of sleep. By daylight you count the bites on your hands, wrists, and face — or perhaps ankle, if one of your nether limbs has unfortun- ately protruded during the night — for the wrist and ankle are special tit-bits for the mos(iuito. In Adelaide here we got a bottle of glycerine, and rubbed our hands and faces carefully every night before going to bed ; but whenever the liquid dried, the mos(iuitoes came in a dense swarm as bad as ever. Then, as the hotel possessed no moscjuito nets, we took down the gauze window curtains, and pinned them over the top of the iron bedstead, bringing them close down to our faces, and carefully sewing up, as we thought, all rents and seams. The first night we used the curtains, a mosquito got inside; and, as he could not find his way out again, there was a fearful " ping- ing " for hours. In the morning we discovered a gap, in a fold at the back of the pillow, big enough to have let in a hedgehog. Then we j)urchased a bottle of patent anti-mosquito-bite lotion, a kind of liquid armour, which kept the insects off till we had fallen asleep. Almost endless were the recommendations and advice given us by friends. One gentleman presented us with a phial containing an extract from the blue gum-tree which would not only banish the mosquitoes, but at the same time drive them mad. It almost drove us mad ! It was the vilest smelling compound that ever was uncorked. The only fault it had as a most[uito-dispeller was that we preferred the mosqui- toes. Oh ! those nights of heat and annoyance ! — but ah ! those days of cool bathing and grapes 1 Adelaide is a snug city. No place we had seen ' i^ generally comfortable. There was no poor quart no poverty visible in the streets ; or, if there \ .j or discomfort, it never obtruded itself. The peojj )f Ad^ ade, as a rule, are well-off, intelligent, and not altogelner sw liowed up in their stores and offices — the oar occasionally rest in the stream — aesthetics mingle with business — and there is a steady commercial vitality, without much fuss. There are a great many Germans in Adelaide, and here is published the only (ierman newspaper in the colonies. As we saw afterwards, there are one or two villages up-country occupied entirely by the Teutonic element. i !' South Australia. 153 ah! or de, wed the iady reat by We travelled for a month through the country districts, visiting in the course of that time sixteen towns. Our journeys were, of course, accomplished by coach, for the railway communication at present only includes a line to Port Adelaide ; another line to Glenelg, a suburban watering-place, and another i)ort of the capital ; and a line running something over a hundred miles north as far as the Burra Burra copper- mines. The country we found to be very flourishing. Most of it is taken up with wheat-growing, Adelaide being the greatest centre of grain export in the Australias. Gawler is the j)rincipal inland town, and lies in the midst of a fiirming district. Strathalbyn is the most beautifully situated of the agricultural to\vnshii)s. Tanunda, which we i)assed ilirough, is one of the German villages, and there we aired our stock of " Deutsch " phrases. Angaston was as clean and pretty a place as we had seen anywhere, and will be remembered also by its grapes, which were fit for the bantiuets of Olympus. South Australia, in addition to wheat, is famous for its wines, which are growing into favour year by year, and are said to be little inferior to those of older countries. Many people in the colony are going in for this particular industry. Coi)per is another great source of wealth to South Australia. At Burra Burra, at Kadina, at Port Wallaroo, and Moonta, we saw the townships surrounded and intersected by ungainly wooden sheds, fuming chimneys, poppet-heads, and large hills of green ore, which latter gave a (juecr look to the scene. Kadina is situated on a plain. Port Wallaroo lies on an arm of the sea, and the ore is shij)ped in vessels to Adelaide. The weather was fearfully stormy while we were here. It was strange to see, in the dusk of evening, the wild dark sky, the trailing smoke from the smelting furnaces, the glare of the fires reflected from the clouds, and hear the lash of the rain alter- nating with the roar of the sea — a grand, weird, gloomy com- bination of sight and sound. This port, as well as Moonta, is situated on what is known as the Peninsula, perhaps the most wretched tract of country to be found in any inhabited part of the colonies. There is nothing to be seen but dingy scrub — not a blade of green grass to refresh the weary eye. ^t most places, indeed, there is even no scrub, nothing but are earth, and the prospect is unspeakably dreary. We asked ome Wallaroo friends if they did not feel dull, but they answered — •* Dull ? not a bit. We have croquet to amuse us iU fine weather. We take a dozen boxes of it into the scrub, II f n r 'm. \ "M p I 't<. 154 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. and have some jolly games. There's pic-nics besides, so we're never lonely." After that, we could believe in lawn billiards in the Desert of Sahara. The Peninsula is indeed a dry, barren wilderness. On the way from Wallaroo to Moonta we passed a public-house that advertised " Water for Sale," and all along the road we noticed tanks dug in the ground to catch the rain-water. We arrived in Moonta during a fearful down-pour, that lashed furiously into the coach, and blinded the whole view of the country. " Yes," said a townsman, " it was the same last night — hogsheads of water lost ! the rain just pouring to waste down the streets ! " All the miners round here are Cornishmen, and at this time Moonta was agitated with revival meetings, instituted by the Cornish Methodists. From Moonta we returned to Adelaide in one day, a distance of 1 1 2 miles ; for, having hired our conveyance from the public coach company, we got changes of horses at the different stages. We left as early as six in the morning, to give abun- dant maririn in case of accident. For the first few miles it was nothing but slow ploughing through deep, dark soi' — rain falling heavily too, and making the road worse at every mile. We stage were almost sticking, when a stable-man from the next met us with fresh horses, he having guessed we would be hard beset on the way. Even during the remainder of the day it was a hard struggle through uninteresting mallee scrub and bush cc'untry — mile after mile, hour after hour, with nothing of importance to see, and nothing of conseciuence hai)pcning. Fatigued and sleepy, we drove into Adelaide that night as 1 1 o'clock was striking, after a toilsome ride of seventeen hours. South Australia impressed us as being, on the whole, a very unpicturesque country — perhaps the least striking, in regard to scenery, of any of the colonies — for, with few exce})tions, there is no natural beauty in the landscapes. In saying this, we do not forget a most pleasant day we si)ent witli one or two friends at a })ic-nic in Waterfall Clully, a few miles from Adelaide — a cool, sylvan glen overshaded with trees, and watered by a sparkling silver rivulet, that fell trickling over a high green wall of rock. We also thought this colony a rather hot })art of the world to live in, though we were unfair judges, being there at the warmest time, and not having experienced the winter, which is said to be very enjoyable. South Australia, however, despite what might be considered its trying climate, will assuredly flourish on its great natural resources. With its wheat, wine, and copper, it will hold its own against any of the sister colonies. CHAPTER XII VOYAGE TO NEW ZEALAND — DUNEDIN — SUNDAY IN DUNEDIN THE WATER OF LEITH CIIKIS'l'.MAS AND NEW YEAR'S DAY. Australia and New Zealand ! How the two colonies link themselves together in one's mind. Both peopled by British colonists — both situated at the Antipodes — both many thou- sands of miles from the old country — no wonder that some of us at home are so apt to ignore the distance between the two countries, and to regard New Zealand as simply a group of islands lying near the south-eastern corner of Australia. Afel- bourne, the starting-})oint for the southern ports of New Zealand, is 1400 miles from Dunedin. Sydney, the port of departure for the North Island, is distant some 1500 miles from Auckland. A wide ocean separates the two countries. A steamer sails about every ten days from Melbourne to Dunedin. The fare is ;^ii in the saloon, and jQG, los. in the steerage. At this time six days were occupied on the passage. Now, however, there are larger steamers in the service, and the journey much shortened. The power and quality of steam- boats on the Australian and New Zealand coasts are rapidly improving. We were to sail to Dunedin in the " Albion," which lay at Sandridge wharf Cabs, drays, cars, and buggies were driving alongside the vessel. Passengers and their friends promenaded the pier, saying over their farewell words ; bevies of ladies held gossipy chit-chat ; parties of Scotchmen conversed in sonorous Doric; rough boatmen, in coarse blue guernseys, straggled through the dapper-dressed, highly-scented throng ; boys with portfolios of periodicals, and men striving to sell old, second- rate, yellow-covered novels, moved amongst the jjcople. The last bell rang. " Good-bye ! " We went slowly off from the pier, those on board crying out their farewells across the fast- widening chasm ; and some, in the exigency of the occasion, vociferating private and family matters. !Moving onward, Ip. \\ \ i| #1 \ ■ { iiJ! 't ■, I ' I .!.!. il; if 'i 'i il 18 , I i mi> \ fi 156 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. ■■^ friends gathered at the pier-head and waved their adieus. Gradually we steamed out into the Bay, past the steamer " Gothenburg," which was arriving from the Port Darwin Gold Fields in the far north of Australia, its fore-deck, poop, and bulwarks densely thronged with returning European and Chinese diggers. We cleared the Heads in the twilight, and encountered the great leaden waves of the " Rip " — the mighty rush of the tide converging into the narrow entrance of Port Phillip Bay. Next day (Sunday) we took a good look at the Tasmanian coast, the last land we would see for some days. An excellent sermon was delivered by a Presbyterian clergyman from Brisbane, and we sang a hymn " For those at Sea." The day was kept in an orderly manner, but during the afternoon some one was heard enthusiastically whistling sprightly melodies behind the deck- house. *' Impossible ! " Cane in hand, with indignation in his looks, a zealous gentleman strode round and — knocked his head against the cage of a whistling magpie ! The passage was rough, but not wearisome. Among the pass- engers were a gentleman from the Orkney Islands — a young, fast, good-natured bank-clerk, who had left a salary of ;^20o a year, and was going with letters of introduction to a bank in New Zea- land, where he intended to "better himself" — anumber of wealthy Dunedin merchants — a Victorian lawyer, going to conduct a case in Canterbury, and a leading Otago clergyman, with' whom and the Queensland minister there were many friendly passages of arms relative to the organ question and hymnology. Some of the passengers played rope-quoits, others shot albatrosses. Bang ! and the noble white bird, with its great wide wings, would shapelessly collapse and wallow helplessly on the crests of the waves far behind. The captain was genial. One of the mates was musical, and seemed to know as much of the Reverend Mr Curwen as of Captain Maury. He was always humming over some tune or other — ordering the sailors to trim the yards with a do-re-mi-fa-sol ! telling the helmsman to keep a straight wake with a fol-de-riddle-i-do ! and taking his obser- vations of the sun at midday with the full consciousness of knowing both the solar and the ?ol-fa systems. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday — Thursday morning at last ! Going on deck our eyes were gladdened by a grand view of the south-western shores of New Zealand. What a magnificent spectacle — what sublime snow-clad scenery ! Lofty, :harp- pointed peaks towered away inland, their white summits A Steamer on Fire. 157 blending with the sunny clouds that floated round them. The rifts in the mountain-sides were filled up with snow, and snow lay drifted up in the deep valleys between. Some low hills near the shore moved slowly past, and the grand chain of mountains came prominently into view across the level country along the coast. There was great fascination to us in those glorious peaks, now glittering in the sun, now dulled by shadows, now enwrapped in clouds. We passed on our right Steward Island, the smallest and the most southerly of the three islands that compose New Zealand. It is only some thirty-nine miles in length, and twenty in breadth. On the left stretched a low flat coast, which curved away outwards towards the steamer's bows, and rose ahead into a high, bare promontory — the Bluff ! This is the point from which the important mail news is telegraphed to all parts of New Zealand. Rounding the headland we came into a spacious, well-protected harbour. There is here a cluster of straggling houses going by the name of Campbelltown, a town- ship which gives one an unfavorrable first impression of the colony. At the wharf were two vessels — the " Wanganui," a local steamboat, trading from Dunedin to the Bluff, and a large clipper loading-in wool. Walking on shore, we came across the remains of a mighty whale — a disjointed skeleton, scattered at random among the rocks and shingle. A nauseous, oily smell pervaded the spot, and a feeling of slaughter. The steamer lay at the wharf all night. As we were sitting reading in the saloon that evening, a man clattered down the zinc stairs of the cabin, and dashed in with a cry of " Fire ! fire ! the ' Wanganui ' is on fire ! " The bells of both vessels rang continuously. The bowsprit of our steamer overhung the stern of the " Wanganui," and our sailors, in dread of sparks, set the pumps agoing and slushed the forecastle with water. One man excitedly tried to throw off one of the hawsers that held the " Albion " to the wharf, shouting at last for an axe to cut the rope through. The captain, pushing him away, darted on board the " Wanganui," and was dienched head to foot with an unlucky pail of water. Sailors of both steamers were there — a noisy, jostling crowd. Two women, just awakened, their faces white with fear, each with a child in her arms, were hastily handed over the side of the vessel. " Hah ! there were five children !" exclaimed one of the females, catching her breath, and counting the four youngsters which the sailors had gathered together — " There were five ; there's one amissing ! " and she f.\ ' y\\\ \ I ' ill - ii' I t % ■\ \ I ! I til was in great trouble of mind till the little one, lost amid a multiplicity of delivtrers, had been recovered. Buckets of water were swiftly passed on deck by a long line of bystanders. In an instant there fliired up, higher than the funnel, a great red plume of flame, which tossed and flaunted and writhed amidst the smoke — then suddenly flickered and fluffed down into darkness. The damage turned out to be slight, and we went to bed a little easier in mind than we had been a few minutes before. We left in the afternoon of next day. The remainder of the journey lay along a bold precipitous coast that shone out grandly in the setting sun. Here and there were immense sombre caves, whose dark sides were lapped by the heavy rise and fall of the sea. We passed the " Nuggets " lighthouse, built on a high rocky point projecting from the shore, and backed by a still higher precipice — the white pillar of the structure standing out vividly against the black cliffs behind. During the night we were awakened by some folks calling out they could see the lights of Dunedin, but we went to sleep again, and did not open our eyes till the " Albion " was moored at Port Chalmers next morning. What ! were we in Scotland ? Every person on shore was talking Scotch. There were many calls for " Jock," and numerous inquiries for *' Sandy." The high mountains locking in the harbour were decidedly Scottish in character, and had the fresh greenness, the bright look of home-country scenery. Everything was redolent of Scotland. The waves seemed to ripple tartan, the wind U moan with a Scotch accent. " All in for Dunedin," cried the railway guard. In a few minutes we had plunged through the short tunnel piercing the hill upon which Port Chalmers is perched, and were rattling up to the capital, only some nine miles distant. Through the Heads of Port Chalmers — part of the irregular shores of which harbour we were now outlining in a railway train — there sailed in the month of March 1848 the ship "John Wickliffe," hailing from Greenock, with the first body of the Otago settlers. A Scott h association, composed of lay members of the Free Chuich, and co-operating with the powerful New Zealand Land Company, had bought from the Maoris the Otakou or Otago Block of 400,000 acres. A careful selection of emigrants had been made — their religious and educational wants were to be pro- vided for from the outset — in short, a Presbyterian colony was to be established. This was the iirst of the so-called " class ^^ hip )dy of ith loo de ISS Diinedin. 159 settlements." Canterbury was founded almost immediately- after, under the wing of the Churcli of England, on the vast plains lying in the centre of the South Island. Both settle- ments have attained importance among the provinces of the colony, but both have failed in carrying out their original plan of denominational exclusiveness. The new community quietly progressed, till in June of 1861 gold, which had ten years before wrought wonders for Victoria, was found at Gabriel's Gully, fifty miles from Uunedin. A flood of miners poured in from all parts of New Zealand and Australia. One gold field after another was discovered, and the excitement spread amazingly, even obscuring the interest in the great Maori war then being waged in the North Island. From that time to this the gold fields have been more or less prosperous — land has been extensively taken up — settlement has been widespread — impor- tant towns have sprung up all over the country — Otago has advanced to a first place among the nine provinces that com- pose New Zealand, and Dunedin has grown to be a splendid city of 19,000 inhabitants. The railway from Port Chalmers to the capital followed the windings of the harbour. We discovered fine scenery one moment — lost it the next — had wide open views for minutes on end — then had our noses flattened against plain yellow cuttings — till at length a hill-spur, like a greac green veil, drew off from the city and revealed it, rising in a grand amphi- theatre at the head of the harbour, with a picturesque lofty background of bush-crowned heights. The town seemed a great wave of streets washed up against the hills, with houses dispersed like spray among the wooded hollows all round. The hour being still early, Dunedin was not yet awake. .Shops were closed, shutters were up — the business-eye had not yet opened. Through the quiet streets, that seemed as silent as if daylight had suddenly been let on at midnight, we made our way to a quiet temperance hotel. We had breakfast in a high-roofed, large-windowed, big-paned, warm-papered parlour. A dazzling white tablecover, radiant knives and spoons, rich creamy tea, thin crimp toast, delicious fresh butter, hissing ham and eggs — soon put us in the best of humour, and made us forget our shipboard illness. The hotel was a few steps from Princes Street, the principal thoroughfare, named after the beautiful boulevard of Edin- burgh. We found it to be a wonderfully fine street, with large stores, offices, banks, warehouses, and hotels. Many of the M !i : ( it il" ■ 1- i, !;:iS \ 1 \ i i % h 1 '\ i i6o Kennedy s Colonial Travel. ! I ,':. ■ names on the signs over the shops were Scotch. Scotch names bristle in the " Dunedin Directory " — of Macs alone there are two hundred, to say nothing of the Mrs Macs and the Macs Junior. Shopmen, shop girls, clerks, and labourers were hurrying along the pavements. The faces we saw bore the true Caledonian impress. The " honest men and bonnie lassies " we met at every step might have been transplanted from home but yesterday, so well had climate and colonial life dealt with them. The streets of Dunedin are named after the streets of Edinburgh, and one feels struck with the confused topography. Princes Street runs through Moray Place into George Street ; St Andrew Street is part and parcel of York Place. The Water of Leith, a pretty little stream, flows through Dundas Street, across St David Street, and round by the back of Castle Street. Hanover Street intersects Great King Street, Cumber- land Street, Athol Street, and finishes in Forth Street. If you walk up Queen Street you find yourself in a short time strolling down Pitt Street. Proceeding down to the foot of the Canon- gate you reach Elm Row ! We were also struck with the manner in which Dunedin has corroded its way into the hills. Zig-zaggy paths tack up to the ridges of the slopes — deep cuttings run back from the main streets, and steep thorough- fares rise to the heights above — the houses seeming to start simultaneously on a race to the higher ground, gradually to straggle, lose breath, and sift into mansions and cottages, till near the summit the goal is won by a number of handsome villas. In Princes Street we came to a large abrupt hill abutting between two large buildings. Up this a cutting had been made, and a long flight of wooden steps with a hand-rail put in for those who wished to go to the houses higher up. At different places cuttings are vigorously going on, and the earth removed from these is conveyed down to the harbour, where it is thrown in for the reclamation of land. Many acres have been reclaimed from the sea, and houses are now built where the tide once ebbed and flowed. On the commanding situations round about Dunedin many fine private houses have been built. To see them away up there, they have a great appearance of comfort — clad in umbra- geous bush, warmly sheltered, as it were, in a nest of trees from the cold winds and beating rains — closely overlooking the town, and commanding a magnificent view of the city, the harbour, and the sea. From these vantage points we saw the situation :*i ler up. lid the irbour, acres \v built many l^vay up umbra- is from town, irbour, Ituation Smiiiay in Duncdiii. I6i of Dunedin. The harbour, at the head of which it is built, is protected from the sea by a mountainous peninsula curving round beyond our view twenty miles to the Heads. It is a long bent arm of land, and Dunedin lies in the armpit. At the sho alder, a mile and a half from the town, just where the pen- insula joins the mainland, is a deprcL'-jd isthmus, three-quarters of a mile broad, over which you behold the ocean. You reach the sea either in three or in twenty miles — either by an hour's walk, or by two hours' journey in a steamboat. On Sunday church bells tolled throughout the town. Down the steep winding roads, through Rattray Street, along Princes Street, down the queer wooden stairs at the cuttings, came a well-dressed, most res^jectable crowd. There were no straw hats, no *' puggarees " or hat scarfs, no sun-shades, no dust- coats, no secular tweed, as you sometimes see in Melbourne. Most of the men seemed deacons or elders, dressed as they were in the blackest of broadcloth and the glossiest of glossy high hats. The New First Church or Grand Presbyterian Cathedral, with its lofty spire and elegant proportions, is the chief building of Dunedin. Go where you will, it stares at you. From the bay, from the town — at every turn, at every street corner — with varying surroundings and at varying angles, it is to be seen, a massive white pile, standing in pallid stateliness. The foundation-stone was laid by the late Dr Burns, the pioneer of the Presbyterian Church in Otago. The church was five years in building, and was opened by Dr Begg. in the presence of looo persons, upon his visit to New Zealand. The building cost ^14,000. We found the interior of the church to be spacious. It had no gallery, and the roof, painted pale blue, was supported by light timbering. The puljiit, built of white stone, looked cold and distant, and seemed to isolate the clergyman from the congregation. It stood in a kind of chancel, and was backed by a round stained window. The general appearance of the church would astonish most people at home. The collection was taken up at the door, as in the old country. In Scotland, the offerings are as a rule copper- coloured ; here they are silver faced, which is mainly accounted for by the difference in money value. A person here puts in si.xpence as he might put in a penny at home — a threepenny bit as he might a halfpenny. This may not be the exact relative value of the coins, but it is as far as church-collec- tions go. On the north side of Dunedin stands the Hospital, a grand m 'A n 1 1 : ti * ^ I s t ti: !| ,i!l ■ M ■ il mi >i I ; W (lifl ^!|::^ tmk 1 It I i ti\ '•i 162 Kcnnedvs Colonial Travel. double-towered structure, formerly a Colonial Exhibition Palace ; and, in the heart of the town, the University, a clock- towered, porticocd, Grecian building, originally intended for a post-office, and having in connection with it a considerable museum. Here, enclosed in glass cases, were s])ecimens of moss and grass from the principal mountains of Scotland, and on a mantelpiece, in a gilt frame, a lock of Burns' hair — "a genuine relic of the poet, modicum of a larger lock owned by Jean Armour." A few paces further up the street were the Provincial Buildings, where are located the Post, Telegraph, Lands, and Works offices. Here also are the Provincial Assembly Chambers, the seat of local legislation. One day we were invited to a pic-nic u]) the Water of Leith, which, by the way, is the water sui)[)ly of Dunedin. We met our friends at the outskirts of the town. The ])arty was headed by one of the leading botanists, who did not air Latin ])hrases more than was agreeable to us ignorant outsiders. We arrived at what bore some resemblance to PLawthornden,near Edinburgh. The i)ath, knotty with concealed roots of trees, wound about through ferns and creepers. Prickly bushes called "lawyers," or " stop-a-bit creei)ers," seemed in league *:o tear the clothes off our backs. There was not much use struggling to get free from them, and the best we could do was to leisurely pick ourselves clear of the thorny hooks. We struck off into the bush, and soon came to the clear running burnie. Here the ladies laid down their parasols, removed their bonnets, tied up their hair with veils, took oft" their gloves, and made ready for a difficult journey. The stream came running down a steep narrow gully. Overhead, about four feet from the water, was a thin covering of broad-fronded ferns, through which the sun shone with a softened light. We were in a long leafy tunnel. The bed of the stream was strewn with mossy stones, and hemmed in by moss-grown banks. Once we came upon an abrupt rise, and each one had to climb up as best he or she could. A little dog we had with us flung itself at the dripping rock, sprawled back, tried again and again, but fell at last into the water, and howled lamentably, till one of us brought it like a wet sponge to the upper ground. Another time, we came to a huge interposing smooth tree-trunk, up which steps had to be hacked with the axe our leader carried in his belt. Up we climbed and on we went. Through breaks in the foliage darted incursive rays of white light, which were repelled at a hundred glea;'".ing points by the rippling stream. )urgh. A Pic-nic at Duucdin. 163 Then we entered a long, dark, cavernous passage, walled in jiy bare glistening rock, and shut out from daylight by a liigh roofing of trees. Suddenly there was a ludicrous yell heard, and one of our folks, who had fallen through treach- erous ground, was discovered almost up to the neck in a mass of leaves, ferns, twigs, and branches. He was extracted green ! Stumbling, jumping, swinging by overarching limbs of trees — crawling under damp, l)carded logs — striding, skipping, and climbing, we reached level ground, and there before us was the waterfall. It was forty feet high, but there was not much water, and we could see the face of the rock quite plainly behind it. This fall was discovered by our friend the botanist only three years ago, and no doubt he felt as i)roud as if he had solved the source of the Nile. We were treading on famous ground. The company picturesquely groujied themselves on pieces of rock. Sundry bottles appeared from coat-tails — biscuits, buns, and shortbread were handed round. Some drank diluted goose- berry wine, others the water that ran past on every side. Finally, '' Ye banks and braes " was sung by the whole of us, standing, and then we made our way back through the innumerable views, vignettes, and tit-bits of scenery that met our eyes at every step or stumble. We had another lunch, and then started home. When we arrived in Princes Street, it was getting on for dusk, which was lucky, considering our worn looks, our fatigued walk, our wet boots, and the amount of moss and mud still hanging to our clothes. As regards matters social, i)olitical, and religious, Dunedin lives in a very turbulent atmosphere. In no other town of the same size can one find so much of ])ublic stir and public spirit. Now a noisy meeting denounces some action of the Government— now a great social question finds its way to every fireside — now a libel case thunders through the colony, reverberating in every newspaper thereof. Then there are grievance letters to the press, answers from the editors, remarks on this or that public character, attacks and counter-attacks, articles and replies to articles, till the electric cloud vanishes, and the air for a short season gets clear again ! There seems to be something chemically eruptive in the social composition of Dunedin. One theory is, that there must be too much of a Caledonian flavour in the community, and regarding Scotchmen as an essence, there maybe some truth in the supposition. Long ago, as far back as the year 1856, the Otago settlers were a controversial people, deep in religious ;'! ,1 .'''PM iii ' ' !'l ' \ 1 .'■ • i ; 1 1 1 1 : I M ■<\ \h i 1=' ! I! ■;! I i\ iH If ' i\\ 164 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. disputes and newspaper broils. An English traveller, writing about that time, compared Dunedin to " an enclosure of wild cats, tearing out each other's eyes," which statement, though clothed in metaphor and prejudice, still gives one an idea of the dissensions that ])revailed. There is even yet somewhat of dogmatism about Dunedin folks, which is all the more wonder- ful as it co-exists with singularly energetic business spirit and commercial activity. There was a most ui)roarious meeting held in the Dunedin Athenaeum while we were here. A large body of the members vowed that the reading-room would be open on Sunday after- noons, and a slightly smaller party that it would not. Minis- ters forcibly addressed the meeting, and tried to turn the scale of opinion. Leading citizens made vehement speeches. The tumultuous scene of wrangling and debate ended in the reading- room being declared open every Sunday for so manyhours. The result created commotion in town and country. For ourselves, we would have believed this of any town but Dunedin, where all the old country traditions and religious ideas are sui)posed to be so well preserved, though, i)erliaps, it may be unjust to regard the step taken by this particular public institution as a sample of general public feeling. Dunedin has great vitality — nothing lack-lustre and debilitated about it, but a marked full-bloodedness that is very refreshing. It commands the finest jiort in Otago, and is the cajjital of a province that can boast of having 84,822 of a population — a fourth of the P^uropeans of New Zealand. Without intending the slightest disrespect, we would call Dunedin a substantial middle-class town, a town of labour and commerce. Every one seems striving after wealth. Owing to the high price of wool, one of the chief products of the province, Otago has never been so prosperous as at present. The first settlers many of them are now in the character of successful merchants, and have retired, or are retiring in favour of their descendants. The shopkeepers are all in a steady way of business. As to the working-classes, they are in a land of plenty. Every man can clothe, feed, and educate his family, and have something to spare. The labourer earns his eight shillings a day, the car- penter his twelve shillings a day, the blacksmith his three pounds per week. Domestic servants, those great perplexities at home and abroad, have splendid wages in Otago. Cooks get ^45 to ;i^5o per annum and their board — general servants, iQz^ — housemaids, ;^30. They can save money and dress w The Otago Synod, 165 bing t^' handsomely. 'I'hey do not wear distinctive cajis, but have tlicir haii' in lofty chignons or some other cajirice. There is nothing of the drudge about them, and they have that feeling of independence which is very desirable if not carried to excess. You do not recognise as a domestic that young lady in black dress, white ribbons, and flowery bonnet, who sets off on Sunday to see her relations and friends. There is here a wholesome breaking down of unhealthy conventionalities — a lessening of the distance between mistress and maid, and more of an eijuality between master and man. Speaking roughly, there are no i)oor i)eople in Otago. The aged, the infirm, and the orphan are housed in the Benevolent Asylum. There is none of that poverty verging on starvation which is so painful to see and hear of at home. Now and then a beggar or a vagrant may shock society for a few hours, but he is soon lost in the great tide of respectability. Food is cheap, clothing is not dear. Capital tweeds and blankets are made in a large flictory at Mossgiel, a few miles out from Dunedin. Of all the hotels we have ever been in, commend us to the comfortable house of Rattray Street. We were next door to the stir of the small liabel, in a main artery close to the heart of the town. At midnight, or rather in the small hours of the morning, as we lay tranquilly snoozing, we would be rudely awakened — not by a crowd of late-arriving, sea-sick passengers — not by a noisy breaking-up of heated revellers — but by a large flock of decent white-neck-tied clergymen returning from the Synod. They had usually a lively talk, to which the thin partitions made us involuntary listeners, anent the introduction of instrumental music, the joining of the Presbyterian Churches in the North and South Islands, and the state of the finances generally; but in a short time debates and debaters went to rest; the organ question was followed by the smell of extinct candles ; the union gave place to hard breathing ; and stipends were lost in snores. We were as snug in this hotel as the days were long, and the season was the height of summer — that is to say, the calendar showed December to be a summer month. In reality, our first fortnight was one of frequent rain. Folks went about with umbrellas as systematically as they might have used walking-sticks. Then there came a few days of fitful blue sky, followed by lowering clouds and cold raw winds. It was a disagreeable time to us who had left Melbourne with the thermometer 109° in the shade. On a certain afternoon we stood amongst a mass of spectators 1 66 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. i^h under a liigh floral arch in Princes Street, waiting tlic ap])roacli of Sir James Fergusson, Ayrsliire baronet antl new (Jovcrnor of New Zealand, on his first visit to Dunedin, The street was avenued with ])eoi)le. The procession rolled past — the Volunteer Artillery with restless horses — an officer in a red coat and cocked hat — a carriage riding in clouds of dust, with a travel-worn gentleman, Sir James, taking off a grey hat — a carl decked with flowers and drawn by the only ass in Otago — and the banner-flying band-waggon of a panorama, the proprietor of which had a business-eye as well as a loyal heart. On Christmas IJay we were invited to dinner at a house some two miles from town. As we were comparative strangers, and this was more i)r()])erly si)eaking a season of domestic reunion. we felt the compliment the stronger. The house lay behiml the hills which back Dunedin, so that we might have been a hundred miles from the stir of the city. The sun shone boldl\-, and the country looked charming. It was open, undulating, and covered with tufts of heath. A Highland landscape seemed to have been transported bodily. Coming after a while to a little white gate set in a hawthorn hedge, we passed through and went up a sloping gravel walk, till we ap])roached a large green lawn, in the middle of which rose a higli flagstaff bearing a floating red banner. About forty of a company had assembled — grandfathers, grandmothers, grandchildren, sisters-in-law, brothers-in-law, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, cousins, and friends of the family. There was a real Christmas dinner, with roast beef and i)lum-i)udding as in the old land, and with as cheerful faces round them as ever were seen at any table either " here or fiir awa'." After this an energetic friend of the family mustered the swarm of well-dressed, clean-faced young folks, and ])aradcd them on the sward. Then he headed them in a playful dash to the to]) of a high hill near at hand. We saw the children with their blue and jjink sashes scrambling amongst the flax-plants, reaching the summit, and gathering round a solitary tree. The elder ones climbed into the branches — the others sang their favourite school pieces — and the performance was loudly applauded by the brilliant company assembled beneath on the lawn. The youngsters came down panting, but with whole clothes, and the day wound up by a delightful stroll amongst the luxuriant beds of strawberries. Asa time of pure unadulterated heartiness it will long be remembered. On New Year's Day, the town was alive with holiday makers. The Caledonian Games, held at the North Dunedin iS i! Caledonian (James at Duiwdui. 167 Recreation (Iroiind, in the midst of green hills and grassy uplands, were a great feature. 'I'he rrowd, with its mixture of kilts, tweeds, i)laids, silks, and satins, was an enlivening spectacle. 'I'artans waved, bagpii)es blew. Hags tlew. Kvery kind of booth was there, from the " (ilasgow pie-^hop " to the "Cafe de Paris." Pipers paraded in splendid garb. One man was dressed in really elaborate costume, and had the largest blue bonnet I ever saw. 'The chieftain was dragging behind him a little fellow dressed as Rob Roy, and choking over a si)()nge-cake. The competitors for the races assembled, 'i'he herald of the course was the town-crier, dressed in scarlet coat, who, after tooting on a trumpet, came round, bawling " 'J*ettitors ! pre[)are to henter the harenar--make ready for the final 'eat!" The utter Cockney abandonment of the sentence, coming in the midst of intense Scotch dialect, was ludicrous in the extreme. The band in the centre of the grounds i)layed " God save the Queen " as the Governor took his ]}lace in the grand stand. Foot races, reels, strathspeys, sword dances, gymnastics, tossing the caber, and putting the stone, followed in ([uick succession. Then came some exciting wrestling between a tall Maori and a squat Cornishman, the brown-skinned fellow winning nearly every bout. The peoj)le streamed round the ring, the showmen shouted, the air-gun popped, the roundabout whirled, the booths tcjtlered with press of customers. The scene was one of great popular enjoyment. But after a while the sports came to an end. The Cockney trumpeter dropped his last H — the Governor and lady drove off in their carriage — the crowd began to tend steadily home- ward, and we left the grounds as the brass band burst out crashing with " Auld Lang Syne." Our concerts lasted five weeks in Dunedin, from P>oxing-Day to Burns' Birth-Day, 1873-4 — a long time, considering the size of the town. But one peculiarity of the colonies is, that new entertainments run longer than they would in an ecjual j)opula- tion in the old country. Wlen we arrived, the only available hall was the Volunteer Drill Shed, a plain spacious building, which by means of calico and banners we made somewhat presentable. Then we moved to the Masonic Hall, a smaller but neater place. Eight months afterwards, on our farewell visit, we performed in a fine new Temperance Hall. Our entertainment, ** Twa Hours at Hame," found great favour with the Dunedin folks, though it seemed like "taking coals to Newcastle" to bring Scottish sentiment and song and story into a community where the nationality was so pronounced. ri I ■ n \ !l M ■ 'A 'I I, CHAPTER XIII. A TOUR THROUGH OTAGO — TOKOMAIRIRO — GABRIELS GULLY A CONCERT IN A 15ARN INVERCARGILL — THE HIGH- LANDS OF OTAGO. We Kpent six weeks in travelling through Otago. This necessitated coach and horses. Otago has not, as yet, con- tinuous railway communication. There are in the province 332 miles of railway authorised by (iovernuKMit, and now in course of constructioi.. but at present one has to depend mainly on horseflesh for locomotion. Roads and railways are being pusl. 2d forAvard in all the provinces, and this rapid opening up of the country is tlie cliief policy of the present New Zealand Government. Having contracted with a coach i)roprietor for the tour, there came to the hotel-door one Monday morning a red-bodied, yellow-wheeled coach with a staunch-looking team of four horses. Tlie driver was a young man about 21 years of age — short, whiskerless, a smoker. His name was Gideon, he said — or, as some called him, Gid — and others again. Giddy. It was one of Dunedin's worst days. The rain was blinding, and the wind boisterous. As the coach drove off, kind friends in waterproofs, whom we certainly thanked from the bottom of our hearts, waved their umbrellas and cheered us with pro- phesies of fin(>r weather. Soon we were rolling along a smooth country road. Through the heavy driving rain, lit up by fitful sunshine, we saw that we were travelling through a beautiful country — dark green hills, light green hills, yellow hills, distant purple hills — and that the landscape was treeless, save where blue-gums, like rows of nine-pins, had been planted as shade-trees round houses. The Australian tree flourishes well in its new home, and Govern- ment encourages its introduction as a means of attracting rain, giving as a bonus two acres of land for every acre of gum-trees planted. We came upon several coal-mines, and passed through one or two tolls, the keepers of whicii seemed half inclined to Afi Oftrj^o Toii'usliip. 169 s in |m of oiigh lose the money rather than risk coming out in such a rain. Arriv- ing at a wayside inn, we drew up and watered the horses, while our driver, in obedience to the iron law of custom, went in to spend a sixpence — " swig a tanner," as he elegantly phrased it. We drove through the Taieri Plains, a fine agricultural country, which we had no sooner passed than the sky cleared. The wind blew fresh and bracing. We were in the highest spirits, and emerged from our husks of rugs and shawls. The driver whistled, and the horses had to be held in from a canter. The hill-slopes — spotted with small " tussocks " or tufts of grass like miniature sheaves or '* stooks " — swept quickly past. Along the banks of the ''J\aieri River — past a small lake glittering in the sun — down tlie Waihola Gorge — and through the fertile Tokomairiro Plain, we reached by a long straight road the cheerful-looking township. We found that the hotel-man, who alFO owned the hall, had, in his zeal to procure a good audience, displayed a large banner in our honour, and covered the town- ship with small bills bearing the lucid intimation, " TJicy are oommg! 'I'okomairiro, or Milton, as the Government name goes, or Toko as it is termed for shortness, or Tok as I have heard it thjjpantly called, is perhaps the largest of the purely agricultural towns of Ouigo. '1 o the eye it is one long street, though there has been an elaborate township laid off. The one-storey houses and shops, with which we had long been familiar in Australia, had here an air of freshness about them, due greatly to a free use of white paint. Though an exceedingly ])ros- l)erous town, we found it to be dull in appearance. We saw nobody at the street corner — nobody near the bank— no one at the Council Chambers — no housewife shopping at the large general store. The grocer, with legs spread out across the threshold, filled up his doorway with his elbows. The draper was mechanically rolling and unrolling his cloth, selling and buy- ing to himself. The seedsman had more plants than patrons. The barber, hiding his hands behind his back as if they were contral)and goods, not to be seized even in friendship, alternately surveyed the pavement and his j)rojecting rainbow- coloured pole. A solitary rider left the echoes of horse- hoofs lingering about the street long after he had gone. One would think the townsfolks crept out and made purchases by stealth — that they were forbidden under i)ains and penalties to shop before sunset. Tl:ere is a news])aper here, the Bruce Herald, named after t ■ 1' . If M; 170 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. I •] one of the two districts into which Otago is patriotically divided — Bruce and W^allace ! Among the many other things of which Tokomairiro is proud are large flour mills, saw mills, a very extensive brewery, and as counterpoise, I su|)pose, a large cordial manufactory. A seam of lignite is worked within a mile of the town, and coals are extracted from the bowels of Mount Misery, a neighl)ouring height. Milton may be called an ejiic town, most of the streets being named after poets. 'J'here is an Ossian Street and a Shakspeare Street — a Chaucer Street, a Spenser Street, and a Johnson Street — a Po])e Street, a Drydcn Street, and a Burns Street. One cannot hel}) regretting a capital chance which the laying-out committee has missed. There is a cone-shaped hill a little way out, which might have been called Parnassus. To be sure, it is easy to climb ! The view we had from the summit was grand. \\'e thought it the climax of the picturescpie in agriculture. A plain spread out before us, chequered with green, brown, and yellow s(|uarcs — corn fields, gardens, and meadows of l^nglish grass. In the heart of this lay Tokomairiro, while the landscape was framed in by hills that looked rugged and uneven, plunged as they seemed at places in deep shade, which we saw through a glass to be patches of very dark bush. We drove out with one or two friends to a bachelor's garden, some few miles from Milton, and were well rewarded for our visit. It had been given out to us that the garden was a great curiosity in its way, and we were not disappointed. An uncouth wilderness came to our view. We saw nothing but rank luxuriance. Gum trees were there, cabbage trees also, and flax plants in profusion — native trees in great numbers, and the poisonous "toot " plant, a small shrub terribly destructive to sheep and cattle. The animals are passionately fond of it, devour it wholesale, and go into fatal convulsions. Pushing aside the rough scrub we discovered magnificent red, yellow, and green goose- berries — white, black, and red currants — plums, peaches, pears, and apples. Along a walk almost concealed by grass, and through a maze of ferns, weeds, and tall bracken, we were taken by the bachelor himself, coming latterly to a small gully, where one of us was severely stung by falling u[)on a hidden beehive. In Australia we would have been frightened for snakes ! But it seems there is not a hurtful reptile in New Zealand— not a snake, which fact was once satisfactorily explained by a learned Irishman — "As all of yez know, New Zailand is the anti- podes of Ould Ireland ; so when St Patrick put his ban upon It )SC- ;irs. 111(1 cii ere ive. Bui )t ;i nee I nli- p(ju Gabricrs Gully i/J snakesin the ould counthry, it went right through, bedad it did I " In the gully were bushes of large luscious black currants, that hung in bunches like small grajjcs. Fiuits, flowers, and vege- tables seem to acquire extra vitality in Otago. Vou see cabbages and cauliflowers with giant heads, and fuchsias growing to be considerable trees. Crossing the gully we came to a hothouse filled with vines, and lacing a large flower garden. Here flar- ing bouc^uets, bunches of grapes, bags of ajiples, and large branches of currants, were thrust into our hands. Unitedly thanking our kind host, we drove off — a moving horticultural show ! Next morning we were to start for 'rua])eka. " It's past eight o'clock !"' cried Gideon the driver, laughing and squeezing his head through the partially-o[)ened door of our bedroom — "the horses have had their oats, and your own breakflist's a-waitin' ! " My brothers and 1 jumped up, hurriedly swallowed our breakfast, hauled out our luggage to the door, loaded the roof of the coach with i)ortmanteaus, packed the rack, ballasted inside with bundles, filled the boot with a choice assortment of parcels, and heaped up shawls and greatcoats on the box. Gideon came round, leading the horses. " All right there? — in with them pole-straps, first hole — woa ! — quick, fasten up the trace that side — back, steady, woa I — hand iq) the reins — all aboard ! — stand clear there — hi, lads, hi! — Blossom, Jack, Nelly, Wall-eye, hi ! " Crack, jerk, jingle, and we were rattling down Tokomairiro's quiet street at fully eight miles an hour. Tuai)eka, or Lawrence, the oldest gold-field in Otago, lies at the foot of Gabriel's Gully. It is fiiirly prosperous, and supported by the Blue Spur mining. When we were there, they were talking of building a new town hall at a cost of ^3000, and a school at ;^i2oo. The present public school is regarded as small, though it has accommodation for fiilly sixty scholars. During a short vi:at we noticed that the pupils, in addition to other accomplishments, were taught shorthand writing. Education gets every attention in Otago. Dunetlin possesses a fine University, where you are taught all the classics, and "ologies" without number- — also a High School and a Girl's Provincial School. Then there are public schools to be found all over the country — whether it be in such flourishing towns as Invercargill, Queenstown, or Oamaru ; such prosper- ous places as Roslin, Teviot, Wallacetown, or Bannockbiirn ; or such model communities as Sawyer's Ba), Grop'-r's Flat, Limestone, Drybread, One Tree Point, or Gummy's Bcsh. It ;: I' li ^1 172 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. There is here a large number of cleanly, well-dressed China- men. At night they walk about with their fashionably-attired English 'vives. At our concerts here they invariably occupied the very front of the front seats! There are 1883 Chinamen in Otago. Many of them are capital market-gardeners. We have seen no one but a Chinaman who could make a cabbage- garden picturesque. A number of places would be entirely destitute of vegetables but for the enterprise of these })agan gardeners. They have their weak points, like Europeans. Some of them, though quiet, are sly and dishonest. We heard here a tale reflecting seriously on the character of one *' heathen Chinee." He had been in the habit of taking his gold to a certain gold buyer, who, on John's departure, always found the precious dust to weigh unaccountably lighter. So one day he was on the watch. The Chinaman came in and put his gold on the scales. *' Welly good gold, welly good," said John, as the buyer bent over the counter to adjust the weights. Glancing (jiiickly up, the broker saw the Chinaman, with dis- tended cheek:-, blowing down silently upon the scale ! Smother- ing an exclamation, he vaulted over the counter, seized the flying rogue by rhe pig-tail, and tarred and feathered him before a larcje crowd of the townsfolk. In 1 86 1, gold was found at Tuapeka. On 4th June of that year, Mr Gabriel Reed discovered auriferous ground in the famous gully now named after him. By the month of July 2000 diggers had assembled, and 600 tents had been erected. The excitement spread all over the colony. People even ceased clamouring for " news of the Maori war," and longed for "news from the Otacro di<:c;in<2:s." On the first of Auc;ust the whole area of 51,000 acres at Tua])eka was declared a gold field. By September the miners numbered 4000, and the yield per week reached 10,000 oz. Being winter, the roads to Tuapeka were almost impassable. Twenty bullocks were required to haul 12 cwt. Many people lost their way on the ranges out from Dunedin, and after suffering severely from frost and snow, were compelled to return. It was an eventful season to thousands. Of course we went to see the famous spot. The gully, hemmed in by high hills, looked like a wide, half-dried-up river bed. Slate-coloured slimy streams ran in and out amongst islands of grey sludge and gravel. The whole floor of the gully seemed to have been tori. up. A broad expanse of tailings and workinsrs stretched across to the bases of the hills on either .u. Ml A?i Otago Highiuay. 1/3 [iver Ingst lully [and Ither side. Two miles up, the gully branched off to the left, and we saw before us, at the head of the ravine, up a long, gentle gradient, the oijeiations at the Blue Spur — a high, wide amphi- theatre of bare earth — a great conglomeration of quarries, washed by artificial torrents that poured over the precipitous cuttings. Rocks stood out here, jagged peaks projected there, and cliffs yellow from recent blasts shone out on every hand. One large waterfall we saw making a descent of 170 feet. We went south forty :.ailcs to Ualclutha. At a toll we were stopped by a portly, sunny-fliced Scotch wife, v/ho, finding we were Scotch also, thougln it her boundcn duty to ask for the " bawbees " in tlie broadest accent at her command. One of us, in a moment of inspiration, and popping his head out of the coach, gave it as his deliberate o])inion that she was the handsomest wife he had seen between here and Dunedin. " My ccrtie, that's true!" instantly exclaimed the good woman with a self-satisfied cast of her head — " there's no mony like me on the road — gude mornin' to ye ! " And away we went, with many a laugh at the unexpected answer, so different to the bashful denial we had confidently hoped for. The road was lined each side by sweet-smelling hawthorn hedges, which alternated with low sod-walls almost overgrown by dense gorse. These sod-fences are built in the wet season, the turf being cut from the roadside, and the trench thus formed increasing the apparent height of the wall. Sheep pastures, houses, stacks, and roadmakers' tents occasionally varied the monotony of the grassy heights and hollows. At one place an English labourer, evidently a new arrival, was breaking stones in a listless kind of way, as if clods were more in his line. Pie had on the usual English smock, which looked a badge of servitude in such a country as tiiis ! We never saw another smock in the whole of New Zealand. Balclutha was a pleasingly irregular cluster of houses, cheer- ful-looking and pictures(|ue under the bright enlivening sun. It was looped in by the River Molyneux, a noble tortuous stream. It pours into the sea 1,600,000 cubic feet of water per minute, sixteen times the volume of Lhc Thames. It is 200 miles in length, and rises near Mount Aspiring, a conical peak 9049 feet high, and part of the mighty middle range that runs like a backbone through the whole of the South Island. Strange to say, the river is fuller and the water is colder in summer than in winter, owing to the melting of the snow upon the mountains. When we saw the Molyneux, a large portion of !l m ..If f M 174 KciiHcdvs Colonial Travel. % the banks had been washed away by a flood, and the bed of the stream displayed a considerable amount of shingle. New Zealand rivers, with their rugged, torn channels, bear unmis- takable evidences of nature's rude, wild moods. Balclutha is the centre of a most j)rosperous agricultural district. In fact, the whole country from Dunedin to Bal- clutha, a distance of fifty-four miles, is one long settlement. One meets with strange characters in some of these country places. For instance, in the hotel at 'J'okomairiro (spoken of in Scotch circles as Toakcy-mirey) our boots were brushed by a fishcurcr, who had just come out from London, and who regretted his luck in not getting work so soon as he expected. We happened to ask what induced him to come out. " Oh," said he, " the ship did ! and I heard tell, too, as how the Otago folks were running mad after ])eoplc at ten shillings a day and their board-- that's what did it, that is ! " We thouglU it a pity that, when affairs really have a bright, glowing asi)ect, people should persist in making them too rose-coloured. Otago could be a land of {promise without being a paradise. At this same hotel the waiter was a banished Communist, who had fought in the streets of Paris, had been run through the leg by a bayonet, and had been exiled for ten vears. He was a short, flaxen- moustached young man, with seemingly a wealth of i)oliteness and gentleness. Unsuitable ]ieoi)le sometimes emigrate. One day a man was mourning the lack of employment, but he turned out to be a glass-eye maker ! We went on to Popotunoa, passing through much the same scenery as before. Otago is a decidedly grassy country. It lies ready for the plough. There are no forests to fell, no stumps to root out. Ail the heavy timber lies up amongst the ranges, and bush only exists in very small light })atches about the lower country. The only great trouble to the farmer is the burning out of the "tussocks." When destroyed, they leave small, black, seared roots. The grass seems as if it had curdled into these large tufts. Very often we found them close together, and we had to wade through them up to the waist, sometimes up to the shoulders. The grass is luxuriant and speckled with tiny seedlets. When we gras])ed a handful of it, there was a feathery ornamental plume which would not have been out of place in any drawing-room vase. Otago, in its scenery, resembled the old country — the bleaker parts like the north of Scotland. Coming to details, however, the grass is not English grass — the solitary clumps of bush are A Concert iii a Barn. 175 not groups of English trees — the ever-present flax i)lant you never see at home. This flax ])lant, or Phorniiuni tenax as botanists term it, or llarakckc as the Maoris call it, is a wonderful plant. It is a clump of green, drooj)ing, sword- shaped leaves, out of the centre of which springs a long flower stalk. It grows from seven and eight feet to ten and twelve feet high, while the stalk shoots very often to the height of sixteen and twenty feet. It is to be seen everywhere — on moist, dry, high, and low ground — but flourishes best near swamps and rivers. We saw it on the hiP side, the river-side, tlie road-side, and growing in large fields on marshy ground. The flax is exceedingly useful to the Maoris in the North Island. The i)ink blossoms that grow on the stalk contain honey — the roots of the blades exude a liquid gum — the pith of the stalk burns like tinder — the leaf is note-paper to the natives, who write on it witli a sharp shell. Tied in strii)s, it serves as ropes — plaited it makes excellent mats — dyed and woven, it forms fine garments for the Maori. The flax is also of great service to the settlers in the south. We have seen bundles tied up with it, whip thongs made of it, horses' bridles made of it, horses tethered with it, and fences filled in most elegantly with the blades fixed in upright strips. But tliough an article of great commercial vaUie, the flax grew as mono- tonous to the eye as gum-trees in a long Australian bush-ride. Popotunoa at this time was peo|)led only by a post-master, a blacksmith, a bricklayer, a butcher, a baker, two carpenters, and a hotel-keeper. The post-office had only recently been opened, and the post-master was talked of as being rather amateurish, and not ([uite in his [)iace yet. Just imagine a locality where a resident could come up to us, gleefully rubbing his hands, and tell us thjt he did not bake his own l^read now, for to his great joy a baker had just opened shoi) in town ! We had liere the good fortune to be the guests of the Rev. Mr Connor, formerly missionary to the Potterrow, Edinburgh, in connection with Nicolson Street U. P. Church. We were kindly entertained at tlie manse. The worthy clergyman remarked, in conversation, tliat his work w.is arduous but very encouraging, and only regretted that more young clergymen did not come out to this interesting field of labour. We had the honour of giving the first concert ever hi^ld in Popotunoa. The receipts went to help a young kirk. The "hall" was the barn of a neighbouring :sheep-station. The seats were planks laid upon bags of grain, and an open loft, \ : * i\ I " Li! ■I 176 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. * % i m iti ^ 1 filled with sacks of chaft", served as gallery. On the platform, which was a few boards covered with carpet, stood a table with a globe-lamp, and on our small travelling-piano bloomed a neat boLuiuet of (lowers. The audience soon assembled. We saw the folks coming across the moorland, through the long grass men, women, lads, lasses, mothers, children, shepherds, servants, and peoi)le on horseback. Every few moments we heard the flir- off thud of hoofs — then a head would appear over the brow of a gentle declivity, and a man would dash up hurriedly to the door, with a sweating, hard-breathing horse. Every she])herd brouglu his "collie" with him, so that the barn swarmed with dogs. The horses were hitched-up to railings, posts, and the wheels of drays. The barn was not very brilliantly lighted. Chandeliers were made of crossed pieces of wood, each with two holes, into which candles were placed. Perforated battens jutted out from the walls. At one end of the ])latform was a shaky door, leading to the shed which did duty as " side-room." In this door was a hole, ai)parently for the ingress and egress of cats, and it so chanced that during "■ The Land o' the Leal " a poor dog jammed his head into the aperture. The melancholy howl that followed effectually banished sentiment. 'Lhen ensued fresh horror. The wooden chandeliers did not happen to be at all straight, and there was a strcng draught, so the grease came dropping down. Icicles of grease hung on the walls — stearine stalactites drooped from the candelabra. The lights guttered out one by one, till nothing was left but the dim globe-lamp. By ten o'clock the concert had concluded. When the audience went outside they found that the horses, alarmed either at the singing or the applause, had stampeded, and that a number were missing. Walking back in the gloom we were suddenly met by a ])arty of riders, who had been on the search for the animois. " There's nine of them gone," said a man in a big flapping cloak — "clean gone, and into the ranges, LU bet." We were really sorry for those poor fellows. The black sky — the moonbeams striking through the rents in the clouds, and sweeping round like so many aerial bull's-eyes — the strange shadows on the hills — the sound cf the wind as it rustled the high grass — the sight of the dark range far away, where the horses were supposed to have strayed — increased our sympathy. Nothing ever impressed us with such a sense of hopeless search as this night-ride of those men. After plunging through some half-mile of tussocks and climbing six or seven fences, we reached the Manse, and next morning; had the satisfaction of iccls ;licrs into from .loor, this cats, poor howl isued to be ireasc s — h-ht^ dim Vhen rmed :1 that were earch an in s, I'll black louds, range d the ire the Ipathy. earch some iS, we Invercargill. 177 lion of knowing that most of the horses had quietly cantered home to their respective stables. We drove on to Mataura, passing through bleak grassy up- lands. This was a place so small that the impetus of the coach almost took us past the townshij) ! We sang here in the public hall, which is used as a court-house, a concert-room, a school-room, a church, and an assembly room for dancing. Even in this small hamlet, we had an audience of a hundred people. As we went from this place towards Invercargill we saw faint pencillings on the far horizon — the mountains of Otago. The road had a singularly anomalous appearance. On our left were fields of corn, protected by quickset hedges — on our right, rough tussocky country, enclosed by open fences. On one side, young English grasses, bordered by Australian gum-trees (successful immigrants from a sunny land) — on another, hoards of wild Scotch thistles invading the soil, and pushing their purple heads between the tough, green, broad- spreading leaves of the New Zealand flax-plant. Well did the national emblem symbolise the energy and colonising spirit of the national character ! Invercargill is a thriving town, in the midst of farming. Its streets are named after Scottish rivers — the Esk, the Dee, the Teviot, the Tay, the Forth, and several others. It is the chief town of Southland. This is now a small district, but in 1861 it said to Otago, " I would like to live separately — I wish to be an independent province — I want to manage my own affairs." And Otago said, *' Very well, go ! " So Southland went, and made a nine years' unsuccessful attempt to live on its own resources. But the little province turned bankrupt, and in 1870 came once more under the parent wing. Invercargill, though shorn of metropolitan honours, has been more pros- perous since then. Our concerts were held in the Exchange Hall, wOiich, like most of the buildings in town, was composed of wood and iron. It was formerly a church in St Kilda, near Melbourne, and the cost of shipping it to New Zealand amounted to ;^iooo. Invercargill has p railway twenty miles long, which nms down to the " Bluff," the port of Otago first touched at by the steamers from Melbourne. The stations are mostly sawmills and side tramways of sawmills, for Southlanrl has 300,000 acres of forest, and does a good trade in timber. The railway to the Bluf^, in its early days, had many features in common with the " Innocent Railway " that used to run between Edin- M ^iDji \ 1( ;. 11 lil 1 1 I'lE i n ■ , ilill !•: 1 1 I I' ! I 1 ' 1 ;-i- H 178 Kennedys Cohmial Travel, burgh and Dalkeith. On board any of the steamers, if you unfortunately start the subject of railways, a commercial traveller will inevitably, and with a premonitory chuckle, tell you a certain " comical old yarn about the Bluff Railway," which narrative is, nine times out of ten, the same that you heard from a chuckling commercial on your last steamboat trip, and which you will assuredly be bored with by another on your next. We heard, for instance, a story of how, in those good old times, a mob of cattle would frcciuently get in the way of the train. This caused great trouble to the driver, who used at first to sound the whistle, hop from the engine, and chase the obstruction off with billets of wood. This of course grew tiresome, and the driver at last carried a collie dog on the front of the locomotive. The sagacious animal sprang off whenever cattle a]^i)cared, barked them somehin Ireds of yards up the line, and then resumed its warm place over the buffers. One day an old woman was driving her cow along the railway track. The morning express came puffing up at fully seven miles an hour. The ancient dame, adjusting her spectacles, looked behind at the approaching engine, and thinking perhaps that danger was imminent, gave her beast an extra jjoke with her stick. On shambled the cow — on jogged the old woman. " Get off the line ! " roared the engine-driver. But the good dame tucked up her dress and kept stumping along. At last the buffer of the engine quietly impinged upon the "bustle" of the old woman's dress, or rather where a " bustle " would have been had there existed any such thing as " bustle " either in train or dress in those slow-going days. The driver, shutting off steam and shutting his eyes to the impending catastrophe, shrieked "Hi! Hi!" while the old lady, dodging the buffer, uttered those ever-memorable words : — " Man, ye're surely in an awfu' hurry this mornin' ! " So run the short and simple annals of the rail. On our way to Riverton from Invercargill we came upon'a delicious patch of bush, consisting principally of kahikaica or white pine. The trees were tall and slim, their limbs high up on the trunks, and the boughs curving up like the branches of a chandelier. The timber in New Zealand is lighter and more ornamental than that of the Australian bush. In the under- growth there was great variety of vegetation — fern and bracken —bushes of all shapes and heights. A strange thing is, that if the undergrowth be destroyed the trees inevitably die away. The track went through this oasis like a stream bordered by an Out at '• the lUboiv. 179 Ipon a \ca or ;h up lies of more mder- Lcken that if Lway. Iby an avenue of trees ; and after travelling a mile, the rivulet of a road brought us sweeping out into the ocean of grass again, while the stjuare black patch of bush faded away behind Hke an island as we traversed the plain. We crossed after a while several sandy knolls, over whic:h frecjuently scampered glossy fLit rabbits, and finished our journey along a wide, broad, curving beach. Two of our folks rode ahead of us, cantering through the surf, while we drove close behind them upon the wet firm sand, with the sea washing up through the wheels of the coach. We went next to Winton, another small township, where we got the use of the school-room by canvassing the majority of the inhabitants (who were on the school-board) and receiving their i)ermission. l-'rom Winton we travelled up a long wide valley towards the " l^lbow," named from a sudden turn of the Oreti River, and a divergence in the lie of the mountains. Every mile increased the beauty of the scenery. The slopes merged into hills — the hills rose into heights — the heights passed into imposing peaks. The mountains were striped with varie- gated hues — blue, purple, yellow, and green — all colours and shades of colours. Rain flew across the landscape — travelling scjualls, with oblique dark streaks traversing the whole sky behind us. We arrived at the Elbow Inn about three in the afternoon — a wooden building standing on an open, low-grassed plain, at the entrance to the Highlands of Otago. The hills bounding the plain rose gradually till they reached the many- peaked, snow-covered summits of the greater chain of mountains. Inside the house we found a blazing log fire, which was regarded by the landlord as a great luxury, the wood having to be brought a distance of fourteen miles from the nearest clump of bush. The teamsters carry small braziers under their waggons. They cannot find wood everywhere, so they burn charcoal, and coal when they can get it. The Australian waggoner is far more favoured, as he travels almost continually amongst firewood. The landlord had been twelve years at the PLlbow. " I came out," said he, "from the 'art of London." During the gold rush to Queenstown and the adjacent diggings, the hotel was in continual stir. " I made ;^3oo a week then," said the landlord, " and in a smaller house than this. Three years ago I went back to London, but I didn't care for it at all — eveiything was so changed — I like this spot better, lonely though it be." We should have thought this impossible after the surge and whirl of the great metropolis. A Cockney hermit was to us an inexplicable being. A o / /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. US80 (716) 872-4503 £p^ i8o Kennedy's Colonial Travel. mu ty We left the Elbow before breakfast at seven next morning. We overtook one by one a number of carriers who had left the Elbow before us in the early morning. The big, old- English waggons, with their arched roofs of white canvas, their blue bodies, and their red wheels, could be seen for miles across the level country. The morning mist lifted leisurely from the mountains. Scarfs of vapour floated midway down the slopes. We never appeared to be so near the clouds before. One felt he could rend the mist by simply throwing a stone. On the higher peaks the clouds lay longer and heavier, but we watched them gradually dissolving in the sun, the white specks of snow twinkling through the thin edge of the mist, and latterly coming full into view. Some of the mountains, clothed in rich grass, had an air of grandeur and rudeness, mingled with ver- dure — Highland form and height, with Lowland snug warmth. The lonely vastness of the landscape seemed to nfifect the feeling of perspective. Where there were no comparative objects, the mountains became knolls ; but when a solitary pill- box of a house rested at the base of one of these knolls, the knoll swelled into a mountain. We had breakfast at Athol, a small village. Then while the horses were having their oats we went across the road to have a talk with the blacksmith. This wortVy possessed strong views on the land laws, had sledge-hammer opinions on squatters, talked of Athcl farmers as being trodden under the iron heel of one man, worked him- self into a white heat over local mismanagement, and blew a whole bellowsful of wrath against the Provincial Council. We chimed in with him as far as oar knowledge of colonial politics would allow, and had begun to feel interested in his clanging conversation, when Gideon was ready to start, and we had to say good-bye. We drove towards Kingstown, the township at the south end of Lake Wakatipu, or Wakatip as it is called for shortness. The road lay through continuous chains of mountains. Along their base ran strange terraces or mounds, supposed to be the banks of some ancient lake. Now and then these struck out across the valley from each side, and met near the middle, leaving only a small opening for us to go through — like railway embankments with space for a stone bridge. Mountains rose round about us — crags with jutting slaty rocks that caught boldly the slanting rays of the sun — mountain slopes lined with watercourses converging into a central cavity, like the impress on top of a quartern loaf — and hills with soft-swelling, graceful Tfw Highlands of Gtago. i8i slopes, whose harshness seemed to be concealed beneath the covering of grass, like the faintly-seen outlines of veiled sculp- ture. One chain was unspeakably grand, uplifting itself far above all around — a sloping range vertebrated with peaks, a twin peak here, another there, then a large molar peak, then another double fang — the range bursting into climax in the highest peak of all, weighted with a mass of snow. Passing half-a-dozen square white houses lying at the foot of a hill, like small ivory aice, with windows for spots, we reached the shores of Lake Wakatip. ;nd CHAPTER XIV. LAKE WAKATIP — QUEEN STOWN — THE GOLD-TOWNS OF OTAGO- GORGE SCENERY — NORTHERN OTAGO. Otago, like England, Scotland, and Ireland, has its well- defined lake district. There are a great number of lakes up here amongst the mountains, the more important being Lake Hawea, 48 square miles in extent; Lake Wanaka. 75; Wakatip, 112; and Te Anau, 132. Lake Wakatip is a great centre of attraction to travellers, but the tourist element is at present a mere drop of water in comparison to the stream of sight-seers that must in the course of time flood this picturesque district. Comparing the New Zealand lake with one of the finest of the Scottish lochs, we should say that Wakatip has two-thirds of grandeur and one of beauty — Loch Lomond two-thirds of beauty and one of grandeur. The famous Highland loch has a quiet sylvan charm peculiarly its own, but the Otago lake is set in a more magnificent framework of mountains. The scenery of this region is regarded by some travellers as scarcely second in grandeur to the surroundings of the Swiss lakes. We sailed up Lake Wakatip from Kingstown to Queenstown, a distance of twenty-two miles, in a laughably small steamer. The pole of our coach had to project over the side like a studding-boom. The lake seemed about three miles wide — a calm extent of water bounded by massive mountains that came abruptly down to the water's edge. These could not have been less than three thousand feet high, and all were of equal height, walling in the water on both hands. On one side, the ranges were in deep shadow — on the other, flooded with sunshine — producing a startling contrast. By-and-by the shadows of the mountains, which had previously lain concealed upon the lake, crept stealthily up the sunny shore, quietly scaling up and gradually taking possession of the heights. Close to the summit of the range, the aggrandising shadows were met by a bright red glow, the rearguard of the retreating sun, which seemed to linger and struggle for the small vantage-ground till Lake Wakatip. 183 forced ofif by the overwhelming darkness that settled on the hills. We had tea served by the attentive captain on deck ; for the saloon could only have contained three persons, and we were seven people inclined to be sociable. First, the captain came struggling up with a large tin tea-pot holding two quarts. Then he recollected a knife was wanted, and down he clattered for that. Then he remembered the butter — then the tea-spoons — then the milk. Then cups were wanted, and he hastily rushed up with an armful of strong jugs. Last of all, he came up puffing with a huge calico bag of sugar, telling w" breathlessly to help ourselves. " And let us all be thi nkful for what we have," said he — " there's some poor fellows on shore here who don't get their meals quite so regularly as we do." As he spoke, the steamer headed towards a point of land, behind which rose a column of blue smoke. This was a signal from those on shore, for there were men here, working in the bush, whose only communication with the outer world was by the boat. As we steamed on, there appeared a hut, and near it a large fire, which glared in the fading daylight. On an extreme pinnacle of rock stood a man in a rough blue coat, and cord trousers, tied round by a string at the knees. A boat went off from the steamer with a well-stocked canvas bag of provisions. When the craft touched the shingle, the man caught hold of the sack, waved a hurried good-bye, and scrambled up the rocks. This scene was backed, or rather looked down upon, by a most stupendous piece of scenery — a mountain of cliffs, one piled above another — mighty blocks of rock, cemented together with bush and brushwood, and towering in blackness to the giddy height of five thousand feet. This awe- inspiring sheer headland is one of the principal sights of Lake Wakatip. The scenery was on so large a scale that we ap- peared to be standing still. Night settled down, and the stars shone overhead. The last place we touched at was a gloomy little bay. Here we were to take in a number of pigs, owned by two Chinamen on board, who were going up to hold their great New Year Jubilee at Queenstown. The boat was long in returning — the darkness thickened — time was pressing. " Hurry up with them grunters!" roared the captain. "All right!" exclaimed a voice on shore, "we're hard at work catchin' 'em!" Then followed a period of discord — soprano shrieks, counter- tenor screams, bass grunts, accompanied by an ear-rending chorus — this porcine part-music occupying about twenty \ I 14 ilff f I ■i:& 7 f ' ■( I' 1 84 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. \ 1*1 minutes, at the end of which a boat-load of pigs came alongside. The two Chinamen seemed to regard the shrieks as sweetest melody, and stroked the pigs fondly, as they were one by one deposited on deck. We reached Queenstown, which lay in a sombre basin of mountains, and appeared a cheerful community of street-lamps. Upon landing we were assailed by a score of lanterns, one lantern quarrelling with another over our effects, and a good-natured bull's-eye conducting us to the hotel, where we were ushered to our rooms by a civil and obliging candle. Next morning was as sunny and cloudless as we could possibly have wished for. Opening the glass doors of the parlour, we stepped out on the balcony and beheld a view of striking beauty. Queenstown, half a mining, half a pleasure town, is sheltered by magnificent scenery. On one side are the " Remarkables," the double peaks of a precipitous range rising 7688 feet, flecked with snow, and looking cold and distant, soaring as it were through rarefied air — a wall of granite scarred by torrents of melted snow — in form like some vast wrinkled iceberg drifted from lonely polar seas. All around are giants of 6000, 7000, and 8000 feet, while the head of the lake is crowned with the glaciers of Mount Earnslaw, 9200 feet high. The various moods of the lake this day were wonderful. At first there was absolute stillness, and so perfect was the reflection that the eye could scarce detect the rim of the beach. Bush, house, sail, boat, and mountain-side were all in perfect dupli- cate. A wedge of sky, that came down between the meeting spurs of the mountains, was reproduced as an outspread fan of light in the clear lake. Then a storm burst with massive clouds, high wind, and curling waves. Towards evening the scene was superb, for the setting sun filled the sky with crimson, shed a mellow pink hue upon the mountains, and transformed Lake Wakatip into a vermilion sea. Then at night, as the sky cleared, the stars shone bright on the lake like trickling drops of light, and the ranges stood in dark shadowy masses against the star-lit sky, mere silhouettes of their former selves, while a red raging bush-fire blazed far across the lake, and, with the help of one or two straggling clouds, feebly imitated the sunset of a few hours before. Next day we ascended a spur of Ben Lomond — a mountain overlooking the town. It was a steep climb. We had to haul ourselves up, hand over hand, by tufts of grass and bracken. Large boulders, imbedded in the hillside, had to be scrambled Climbing a Mountain. iSs over ; rocky crags had to be rounded or scaled at their easiest points. Long shoots of earth went sliding down behind us, frightening the lizards and stirring up countless sand-flies, that stung like mosquitoes. As fast as we mastered one slope, another provokingly rose above us, till after two hours' hard climbing we reached the summit. The sight that burst upon us fairly took away what little breath we had remaining. The mountains had risen as we ascended, disconnecting themselves with all lower hills. The blue Irke was sprinkled with little swan's-down waves. Queenstown appeared below us, a cluster of microscopic houses peopled by black specks, with a white tortuous road winding behind it, like a serpent about to enclose the town within its folds. Away to the left stretched a deep black gorge, gloomy, silent, and desolate, whose further extremity reached a faint silvery vision of snowy peaks ; and wandering through it was the lonely track that led to the gold- diggings in the ice-bound fastnesses of the Shotover River. The whole scene was indelibly photographed upon our minds. The descent of this Ben Lomond spur was the hardest work of alL It took us an hour to reach town, and we did not waste time either. We slid, tumbled, and sprawled — botanized invol- untarily over ferns — culled helplessly large bushes of bracken — were scratched by prickly " Wild Irishman," and tortured by spike-leaved plants, Down we came, each of us riding on an avalanche of earth. Two or three times we stopped ourselves on the very edge of steep rocks, some thirteen feet high, which we had to descend, holding on by the grass that grew in the fissures. One of us, luckily at a small rock, could not stop himself in time, and clutched at a rotten bush, but it came away with him, and he shot over, gliding down in a halo of rubbish, somersaulting over some interlaced grass, and dis- appearing head foremost into a gully, where we could hear his voice dolefully amongst the ferns. We hauled him out, and found his scratches few and harmless. It is needless to say we followed no system in coming down. Every one shifted for himself, one very often beneath the other, which was sometimes dangerous. Once a loud cry came from my brother highest up, and a large slaty stone flew down, revolving on its sharp edge. My brother below, seeing it bounding directly towards him, rolled over and over to one side, lay flat, and covered his ears with his hands, till the stone crashed harmlessly past. With such-like adventures we got to the bottom of this really precipitous mountain-side. ^InH ■! w M ill il- ■ r 1 i 1 i il I I* i ; * ! ■ I ii 1 86 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. 1 ;|i' I ( i At Queenstown we started on our tour through the gold- towns which lie in the grand gorges of Otago. Driving to Arrowtown, we saw a solitary white spire crushed between half-a-dozen converging hill-spurs — then, as if by magic, a long row of iron roofs sprouted out of the earth, the houses blossom- ing by degrees into sight, till a full-blown street, with squat shops, big signs, dirty back-yards, and chaotic mining, spread into view. Arrowtown lies in a wild spot, where high cliffs descend sheer to the Arrow River, bearing traces of many a " fresh." A rise in the river washes down auriferous deposits to Arrowtown — the floods feed it with gold. Arriving at the hotel, we saw a cluster of men in the bar gazing rapturously at a large nugget which a lucky miner -as holding in his hand. It weighed thirteen ounces, and was worth about £,^0. The owner handed it to us, telling us to feel its weight, while we congratulated him on his good fortune, and wished him "many happy gold returns." The country back from Arrowtown is terribly rough and broken. Several diggings, however, flourish in this wild region. These are reached by pack-horses, which travel along small tracks across the mountains. In the old times the Arrowtown digging was long kept secret by three or four men. Persons, anxious to share in their luck, followed them as they came down eveiy month for stores to the nearest township. Going back, they would be fallen in with, as if accidentally, by these trackers, who, uttering many protestations of good-will, would journey along in a friendly manner with the diggers. When night came they would camp and sleep together. In the morning the trackers, waking up, would find that the miners had dis- appeared in the darkness. Sometimes the trackers were decoyed along circuitous routes and were almost lost amongst the mountains. " Knowing " persons say there are two ways of discovering secret diggings. One is, to go up a high hill and look out for — smoke ! A digger, be he ever so secure and secret, must light a fire some time or other, and the rising smoke betrays him. Another plan is, to watch the creeks. If the water be discoloured, there are persons up the creek wash- ing for gold. In some of these ways the Arrowtown gold field may have been discovered. Next we left for Cromwell, thirty-two miles distant. For twenty miles or so the road wound along one side of the pre- cipitous Kawarau Gorge, the first touch of real gorge scenery we had experienced. It was not altogether a time of pleasant- Gorge Scenery in Otago. 187 ness, for the road was without exception the dustiest we ever travelled. The horses sank over the fetlocks, the wheels went down to the axles, while we got out and walked with invisible feet. The dust, too, was as fine as the best flour, and when pressed between the fingers had not the slightest grit. The cutting that overhung the road was a nere dry-clay bank, gradually decaying into fresh supplies of dust. The road wound through the gorge at a height of three hundred feet, and at one place, the Arrow Bluff, four hundred feet above the dark-green Kawarau river, -which seemed to be sluggishly moving far below, though in reality foaming along a rocky cliff-locked channel. We felt dizzy as we wheeled abruptly on our lofty course, the horses generally becoming obscured with dust at the most critical parts of the road. Rounding corners, we would abruptly come face to face with great shoulders of hills — bulging hill slopes, with vast expanses that seemed to swell up before us, every foot of them apparently instinct with life, slowly sinking as we descended, gradually heightening as we rose, and sud- denly steadying themselves as we turned and drove straight towards them. The great depth, extreme ruggedness, wildness, and bold outlines of this gorge left us with grander ideas of New Zealand scenery. After a while we came down a long hill to the river, which we crossed on a kind of punt — a broad plat- form or railed gangway floated on three boats, and fixed by a long chain to a stout iron cable stretched across from one steep bank to another. The helms of the three boats were connected together, and worked by one man. After the coach and horses were safely on the punt, the ferryman, seizing the rudder, turned the boats obliquely to the stream, and the current rushing against them at some six knots an hour, sent us quickly across — the long chain that ran on pulleys along the cable keeping us from being swept down the river. This novel experience cost us one shilling per horse, two shillings the coach, and six- pence each passenger. Traces of mining now appeared. We saw, gleaming across the gorge, what looked in the distance a stout silver thread, but which on closer view turned out to be a piece of galvanised- iron tubing, 400 feet in length, conveying water to the workings across the river. Lastly, we noticed a number of baskets slung on ropes over the gorge, for the transit of miners from one side to another. We passed, during our drive, three mountain torrents of different characters, which the miners have shown by calling them the Weeping Lizzie, the Roaring Meg, ill i \\ i88 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. \ iilii ; ;■ ' * ) and the Gentle Annie. You may miss seeing Lizzie or Annie, but yov cannot escape Meg. She is a rumbhng, raging, scolding stream, her utterance half-choked by stones and boulders, which change her steady flow of eloquence into loud, foaming incoherence. Leaving this long gorge, we travelled some few miles of a grassy plain, at the opposite side of which, close to the mouth of another gorge, lay Cromwell. This was the same kind of town as '.he " Arrow " — a crude assemblage of houses and shops, with all the interests of the place centred in the gold washings on the banks of the river. Close to the town, you see the junction of the Molyneux and Kawarau Rivers. The Molyneux rushes out under a high white bridge, its pure green waters covered with seething froth — while the Kawarau, turned to a dirty yellow by the mining, joins it close by. The two rivers — the green and the yellow — flow side by side in two distinct currents for a long distance, but join at last in one bemuddled stream. In this wedding of rivers one of them "changes its name" — the Kawarau becomes the Molyneux. To reach the next town, Clyde, we had to travel through the Cromwell Gorge, which was as wild and striking as the Kawarau. At a steep " pinch " or hill, my father got out and walked ahead of the coach. Turning a corner, he was lost to sight. He was met by a man on horseback, who said " Good morning " to him in an astonished tone, and then added, "Excuse me, but really it is so strange, so very unusual to see a respectable person like you walking — very strange indeed ! " But when the coach came wheeling into sight, the stranger's face brightened, and he rode off" quite relieved ! Clyde is just like Cromwell. Here the miners are not satisfied with overhauling the steep banks of the Molyneux. They have got a large dredge, which scoops up the dirt from the bottom of the channel and washes it on board. Also a " pneumatic boat," on the principle of the diving-bell, in which the miners descend to the bed of the river. We had a talk with the town-clerk here, who was in the thick of census-taking, and was on the point of starting on one of his numerous journeys. He had to go into the queerest and remotest of places, following the various abodes of the miners. " To-day," said he, " I intend to visit one family only ; then it will take me two days to reach the next family, just a quarter of a mile off" as the crow flies, they're so separated by creeks and mountains." Census-taking is no enviable task here — through gorges instead of streets, and up hills instead of stairs I )ops up board, -bell, 'e had lick of of his ;st and Iminers. then it (quarter creeks here— stairs! A New Scottish Tune. 189 Harvesting was in full swing between Clyde and Black's, our next stopping-place. At one farm, owned by a company, there were sixteen reaping-machines, worked by over 200 men. The property consisted of fully 2500 acres, mostly under wheat, and 45 bushels per acre was looked upon as certain. They do things on a large scale here. The Windsor Park estate, further north, owned by one man, had 2000 acres under grain, and the yield was expected to be upwards of 50,000 bushels of wheat, 12,000 bushels of oats, and 8000 bushels of barley. Some of the wheat, excellent in quality, was averaging 50 bushels to the acre. " Black's No. i " was a wretched diminutive place of nine wooden houses, with an aristocracy composed of the bank agent and the local doctor. It was pitted all about with holes. These frequently form the grave of some unfortunate " hatter," as a man who works alone and has all his property " under his hat " is called. The earth very often " caves in " on the solitary digger — he is crushed to death — and the folks think he has left for some other place, till one day another " prospector " unearths a pick and a skeleton. Chinamen still scrape away here on a small scale. They form a large proportion of the inhabitants. They appeared to us to be all pretty well off, jolly looking in the extreme, and not sickly like most Chinamen. As the local doctor told us, with some slight air of disgust, they are very healthy indeed, and when taken ill, consult their own "medicine man," to the exclusion of all other practi- tioners ! We went next to Naseby, which lies in a sheltered vale near Mount Ida ; thence to Palmerston, a farming town charmingly situated ; then to Moeraki, noted for its spherical boulders, washed completely round by the sea. On the way to Otepopo we were overtaken by a man on a scrubby red horse. He had a fiddle by his side, and told us he had been out playing at a country dance the previous night. " Yes," said he, " I'm the boy for the Scotch reels — ay, an' I like a' kinds o' Scotch music ; eh, man, my twa favourite Scotch tunes are Auld Robin Gray an' the Auld Hunder ! " and with his old fiddle slung behind him like the harp of the Minstrel Boy, he put spurs to his shaggy steed and disappeared over a hill. We passed the village of Hampden, where harvest had put an end to education, the schoolmaster having gone off to help his brother to get in his crop. Then the following day saw us arriving at Oamaru, a sea- port seventy-five miles north of Dunedin, and the chief town of i.ii "»! '4 -1 1 i > ' y : 1 1 il 1 ' \ K! t ■■. :f \ \\ IQO Kennedy s Colonial Travel. Nortliern Otago. It is known through the colonies by its peculiar white stone, which is much used for building purposes. Oamaru is backed by the greatest wheat-growing district in New Zealand. The town is finely built, and is situated on an open roadstead. At the south side of the town an arm of land stretches out, with a headland at the end of it, to which they are at present building a long index-finger — the new breakwater of Oamaru. It being an open roadstead, ships have to lie at anchor, and discharge their cargo by means of surf-boats. At one time we saw a schooner unloading in the roads. A long cable stretched from the vessel, ard on this a surf-boat was threaded like a shuttle, the crew hauling them- selves backward and forward. There was a great swell on, and the boat pitched fearfully, one time completely out of sight, the next standing high against the horizon. The men were clad in oil-skins, as the spray flew in clouds. With a loud rasp the boat touched the beach. Thirteen shore-men splashed over the knees into the water, alongside the boat, which was filled with sacks of coal. With great difficulty the men secured their loads, for the swell rose over their waists and almost carried the fellows off their feet. There is a fine Mechanics' Institute, with a great variety of papers. Picking up the Neiu York Herald, I found underneath " it the Northern Ensign of Wick ! These institutes are a great blessing in Australia and New Zealand. Every month fresh literary blood is infused into the community, and on the arrival of the Home Mail, people crowd the reading-room to see the latest magazines and newspapers. The weather was exceed- ingly pleasant. This was the end of February — that is, to- wards the close of summer. Spring in Otago commences on the 23d of September, summer on the 21st of December, autumn on the 20th of March, and winter on the 21st of June. We had in Oamaru all the bright blue sky of Australia, with the brisk freshness that generally characterises Otago weather. The census-taker arrived one day at the hotel. The printed form was very exhaustive, for there were regulations as to Maoris and half-castes, as to Chinamen and their wives, as to religious sects, as to education, as to sickness and infirmity, and other interesting matters. We were greatly amused on reading the schedule to see that one lodger in the hotel had put down his religious denomination as that of " boiler-maker," and that he was suffering from the infirmity of the "Free Church of Scotland!" by its poses, rict in on an irm of it, to r— the , ships lans of in the 1 this a ; them- on, and f sight, n were ud rasp plashed ich was secured carried iriety of erneath a great ,h fresh arrival see the exceed- is, to- Inces on :ember, )f June. lia, with leather. I printed as to fcs, as to [ity, and [reading It do\vn tnd that lurch of CHAPTER XV. PERILOUS FORDING OF THE WAITAKI — CROSSING THE CANTER- BURY PLAINS — THE CriY OF CHRISTCHURCH — PORT LYTTELTON. "The Waitaki is up ! " was the news we received in Oamaru. We had to cros< this river on our journey northward into the province of Canterbury. Word came that it was barely fordable, a hot wind having melted the snows on the Ranges, and swollen the mountain torrents. This river, one of the most important in the colony, is 120 miles long, and has its source in the Southern Alps, not far from Mount Cook, which is 13,000 feet high, and the monarch of New Zealand mountains. The first forty miles of the Waitaki lie through a deep gorge hemmed in by barren, perpetually snow-covered, precipitous mountains — after which the river flows in a commonplace manner through the Plains towards the sea. This Waitaki is also the boundary-line between Scotch Otago and English Canterbury, so that " Both sides of the Waitaki " may in the course of time come to be as suggestive a phrase as " Baith sides o' the Tweed." A drive of fourteen miles brought us to the river. What ! — this the Waitaki ? — this the famed, the terrible Waitaki ? — im- possible ! Half-a-dozen small streams appeared to be pouring past us, covering a large extent of ground, so intersected was the channel by shallows and long shingly spits. This was one of those New Zealand rivers that are never full-flowing save during a heavy " fresh," and whose banks are simply flood- marks. We waited here three hours, watching through a glass one or two houses on the opposite shore, about a mile off", the Waitaki all the time growing more important in our eyes. At length a boat approached. The head ferryman, who was trying to discover a ford for the coach, came slowly across on horseback. He was a Norwegian named Miiller — a big-built giant of a man, with a long red beard, flannel shirt, and tweed trousers. By his orders the luggage was taken out of the coach and put into ,. li I ' ! II Ufc i tb', K ,<: 192 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. the boat. Then, after my father, mother, and my two sisters had taken their places, one of the men waded up to his knees and shoved off the boat to the edge of a " terrace," where it was caught by the rush of the deeper stream. It floated round the end of a spit, was hauled by the men along some shallow water, guided over a rapid current, dragged over another bed of shingle, and rowed across a second broad channel to the opposite shore. The coach was not equally fortunate. Our driver, though sustained greatly by a dram he had taken at a cottage, was almost on the point of relinquishing the ford. Gideon was in great terror of water, for a brother of his had been drowned whilst crossing an Otago river. Had it not been that two of us went on the box as company, he would assuredly have thrown up the reins. It was certainly far from pleasant to see the grey current rolling past us at six knots an hour, and know that next minute we were to trust ourselves to its uncertain depths. The danger magnified every moment, though we had not long to think, for the Norwegian, riding into the river, called on us to follow. He was mounted on a bare-backed white horse, so as to be ready any moment for a swim. Gideon cracked his whip, and we splashed in, the rear being brought up by my two brothers on the saddle-horses. The stream widened out as we proceeded, while the water tore noisily through the wheels. A bank of shingle was reached. Then our guide took us some two hundred yards in an oblique direction down stream, which was the cause of a strange illusion ; for the swifter speed of the current, combined with the grating of the wheels on the rough channel, made us appear to be going at a considerable speed backwards. We came to another branch of the river, and progressed cautiously. Plump ! — the leaders sank over their knees ; splash ! — the wheelers swayed for tails flowed on top of the stream ; down over the axles. Farther in then the horses' legs — then the front wheels. The coach gave a severe pitch, and a substantial wave came over the box-seat, wetting two of us considerably, while Gideon threw his legs up in the air and thus escaped a ducking. The two on horseback had a bad time of it keeping their horses' heads up-stream. My brother, who rode a little black pony, was every moment expecting to be carried away ; but he got at last under the lee of the large horse, and felt safer. Miiller a foothold, while their bump ! — the coach went the pole disappeared — with le us /ards. ressed tnees ; their went bed — I coach over iideon The lorses' I pony, got at [iiller A Perilous Ford. 193 tied a rope to the leading horses, to guide us round some awkward places — a proceeding which kept us continually on the alert ; for once or twice he turned us sharply on the ** lock " of the coach, and we felt the vehicle lifting for an overturn in the river, which, of course, made us gesticulate wildly, and cry out loudly to the ferryman. Another shingle-spit was gained, and Miiller again peered about for a ford, but the bottom was lost a few feet from the edge. We drove in at random, the Norwegian keeping close alongside our leading horses. All at once his white horse sank to the belly, and in a second the coach had crashed down to an equal depth. It was a most awing sight to see the solid mass of water moving past us — not foaming, but gliding swiftly, with every indication of a treacherous foothold. We had gone but a few yards farther when Milller suddenly threw up the leading-rope into the air, flung his hand back warningly, and sank with an ominous plunge, almost at our feet, into an unknown depth of water. Horse and rider were swept before our terrified gaze away do»vn the river. Clutching the bridle firmly in his left hand, the ferryman made a lunge with his right, caught the mane, and held grimly on, while the horse swam strongly and brought him at last to a small point of land. The coach was left standing on the brink of a hidden terrace, with the current rushing round us. We trembled for the slightest movement of the horses, but luckily they stood like sta- tues, despite the water surging up violently against their sides. Miiller made his appearance again, all dripping but hopeful, and got us out of our predicament by a sharp turn of the coach — telling us afterwards, in proof of the shifting nature of the channel, that he had crossed easily, at this very place, only the day before. When we arrived on the shore we found an hour had been occupied in fording, an experience that cost us thirty shillings. The Norwegian, who treated the whole affair very coolly, told us he had been ten years at this ferry, had been swept off that same old white horse many and many a time, and had frequently to swim for his life. We would advise no one with weak nerves to ford a swollen river in New Zealand. A short time after, a number of passengers were fording this same Waitaki, when their coach upset, and a " female magician" was drowned. We afterwards saw, in theChristchurch cemetery, many graves of persons who had perished while crossing rivers. The inscriptions, which came home to us in all their force, included such texts as " A horse is counted but a vain thing to save a man." N I i ■ ^f i » -'I '! til \: i n i^ n \ . i L 194 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. iW '14 > V. Our perilous fording of this dividing stream was succeeded by a journey of twelve miles along nalive-grassed plains, taken up by sheep-stations. There are some large " runs " in this part of the country. A story is told of a squatter who, in a towering passion, ordered one of his men to leave — " Away ; off at once!" cried he; "get off my run this minute! " "What!" exclaimed the object of his wrath, calmly pulling out a watch — " this minute ! Why, I couldn't do it if I were to rush at a break-neck pace for three hours on end !" We reached Waimate, our first experience of a Canterbury township. The general taste seemed to lie m the direction of neat cottages, painted a light salmon-colour, and outlined in brown. The by-streets were pleasantly laid out with hedges. It was a cosy, fat little country town. Next day we travelled to Timaru, which lies, like Oamaru, on a roadstead. Here we said good-bye to our genial driver Gideon. We subsequently learnt that he made something handsome out of his return journey to Dunedin, as he picked up a batch of Chinamen on the road and brought them into town — or rather to the outskirts ; for, as he said, " I wasn't a-going to be seen drivin' home with a lot o' Chinee diggers ! " We prosecuted our journey to Christchurch by Cobb's coach. The coach was long, red, and dingy, with a railed roof, seats fore and aft, a door at the back, a foot-board curved up in front like the bows of a ship, and an enormous "boot." A farmer sat on the box, and conversed with the driver, who spoke with the side of his head and listened with his nose, which he occasionally jerked full into the other's face. Inside the coach sat a young lady, barnacled over with bundles. The other passenger was an elderly gentleman with a red face and grey moustache — to all appearance a Crimean officer — who was called "the Doctor" by everybody we met. On we jogged with a leisurely trot-trot, for the driver apparently thought he had to tumble over a thousand-feet precipice at the end of his journey, and was anxious to extend his life by slow driving. A few miles out we came to a public-house. The driver handed the reigns to the farmer, then slowly toiled into the bar. Three minutes elapsed. Out he came, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. " What'll you have. Jack ? " said he to the man on the box. " Oh, I don't know — I'll try a shandigaff." The Crimean gentleman emerged from the coach. "And what'll you take, Doctor?" "Oh, a sherry '11 do me, thank you." After a while the driver and the doctor, followed by a foul-speeched swagman, returned from the bar. The Drinkins;- Customs. 195 10 was jogged Tht he fof his driver (to the louth " said try a icoach. \o me, llowed The driver goutily ascended to the box, rheumatically took the reins, serenely filled his pipe, nodded in a careless way to a friend at the door, and commenced an enthralling conversa- tion : — " How do, George? What are you doing up here, eh ? Left Simmons's, have you ? I saw ) "r mate down at the ferry last week." "Oh, did you? Keeping all right yourself? I see that old chesnut of yours is groggy." " No, it ain't no more shakey on the pins than you are." " Oh, don't tell me ! but just wait a bit. Jack, till I fetch a parcel ! Leave it at Smith's, will you, old man?" The military doctor crawled into the coach, and the swagman, uttering fearful threats at some one in the public-house, reeled out, pitched his blankets inside the coach, and took his seat beside them. The mail was off once more. We passed by plantations of gum trees, rows of bright yellow stacks, corn fields hedged with gorse, green meadows, and a wide level plain far beyond — the grey road extending away ahead, till the unclouded sky came down like a bright blue blade, and severed it at the horizon. In time we reached Temuka, where the same drinking programme was gone through. Drinking here is fostered by the appearance and number of the " hotels." "Hotel " sounds more respectable than "public- house." The bars are opener, more numerous, and less clandestine-looking than at home. Colonial Bill, when he beckons his chum Tom to have a " nobbier " over the way, is only increasing his long-established fame for good-fellowship. The digger, when he leaves his lonely gully and comes down to civilisation, has a " blow-out " with his friends — so has the shepherd when he pockets his cheque for some months' work, and leaves for a while the solitude of a sheep-station. Con- viviality is the order of the day. No company of average men assembles, but some one "shouts" or "stands" drinks all round. Mr Black meets Mr White, whom he has not seen for a whole week, and the consequence is a couple of " drinks." Jones has something particular to say to Robinson about the weather — they step " across the road." Smith settles an account with Brown, and two "nips of brandy" are immediately called for. "Nobblers" act in many cases as the receipt-stamps of business. It is only but fair, however, to state that, with all this, there is a marvellous freedom from staggering drunkenness. There is more of what we might call casual conviviality, but we will not say there is more intemperance in the colonies than in the mother-country. r p. ■.hi u i ■■ is 196 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. ^ I ! We stayed two days at Temuka, and then caught the next coach, which left at eight in the morning. The " coach " break- fasted at Waihi j but most of the passengers hung about amusing themselves. Two jolly old fellows, with white sun-shades round their hats, roamed into the " general store," and almost frightened the worthy lady that kept it — one of them, a Scots- man, asking for a " pund o' her best watter buskits," and the other civilly requesting " five ounces of acid drops for a child six months old ! " Occasionally the road, as a relief to its mototony, broke out into bright hedges, cheerful plantations of trees, pleasant- looking houses, salmon-coloured churches, and one-storey cottages. We crossed the Rangitata — which, like most of the rivei's that traverse these plains, was simply a bed of shingle — on a bridge nearly a mile long. Then came a great sea of grass — nothing to be seen on either side, before, behind, to the right, to the left — nothing but a desert of yellow grass, with myriads of little white moths fluttering amongst the tussocks. The passengers in the front part of the coach all became extra- ordinarily happy, taking at frequent intervals a bottle out of a glazed black bag. The jolly company established a dog-watch, which meant that every dog met in with was to be the signal for a drink all round. The first seen was a boundary-dog, chained to a break in a fence, to prevent sheep straying from one run to another. It was a fierce, leciping, howling brute, with teeth like tusks, and with brown matted hair that shook and flapped in long ragged strips over its back and over its eyes. It was fastened to a high wooden kennel, and within the radius of its tether were red fleshy bones of sheep, a skull, and half-crunched ribs, which the dog dragged rattling around with its chain, as it wheeled and bounded furiously at the coach. Poor boundary- dogs, what a life they lead ! — no society, no casual company, nothing but the sight of a coach every day to remind them of the outside world. Their existence is a blank, and they are said to bark at a passing shower even by way of variety ! Far from house and settlement, we saw a cart loaded with furniture — chairs, tables, and chests of drawers — a family moving, and the head of it driving his small stock of cattle before him. In the middle of the plains we drew up alongside a post, on which was nailed what looked like a small writing- desk. The driver leant out, lifted the lid, took out a small leather bag, and drove off". It was a bush post-office — a very private letter-box, belonging to some sheep-station. Then the with Ifamily [cattle igside Iriting- small very mthe TJie Canterbury Plains. 197 horses, as if by mutual consent, took it into their heads to "bolt." With vigorous gallop they careered along the plain. The team was guided off tlie road, and the frantic animals swept round in an immense circle on the plain. All fear and anxiety gave place at last to curiosity. " How long would they keep it up ? '' For nearly a quarter of an hour they dragged the coach round and round; but at the end of that time they sobered down to a sma-t trot, and, all steaming and sweating, they were headed back to the road. A passenger was picked up — an open-faced young Irishman. "Ach ! this country is no good," said he, " the best of the land 's all taken up, and you can't get work when you want it — and little enough wages, too." Cross-examining him, we learned that he liad been five weeks at harvesting, and was ;^25 in pocket. " Troth, that's a fact," said he ; " I cleared five pound a week. You see I'm one of those chaps that's always grumbling, and don't know when they're well off." Leaving Ashburton, where we had dinner, we passed paddocks of green grass, marshalled round in military fashion with sentinel poplars, outside of which brisded like bayonets the fixed blades of the flax. Eighteen miles more of the dull plains, and we had reached by dusk the railway at Rakaia. After a thirty miles' rush in the dark on a continuous dead level, we sighted the bright glow in the heavens of the Christchurch street-lamps. We were conveyed from the station in a real English cab. The driver was a stout old man, very garrulous, who, ere we had driven thirty yards, said he was a Herefordsliire man, and had struggled long in the province. " I've 'ad my ups and downs," said he, " an' worked 'ard in my time, but " (giving his horse a crack of the whip) " I'm blowed if I ever 'ad such easy work as this ! " The cab turned into a quiet part of the town, consisting of detached houses, walled gardens, and numerous white gateways. Into one of the latter wo turned, driving up a gravelled walk to a verandahed hotel, surrounded with trees. We were shown by the lady of the house to an airy parlour, where the waiters brought us the numbers of our rooms. One by one we went upstairs. Candle in hand, I walked down a long passage, looking for No. 36. No. 7, No. 8, No. 9 — 10, II, 12 — confound it! — 17, 18, 19 — no appearance of 36 here ! Back again, and along another corridor, with a narrow channel, dangerous to navigate from the numerous reefs of boots lying on either hand — alas ! here was the end of the pas- sage — 50, 51, 52. What was to be done ? As a last resource ; I \. \ \ 198 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. > I m. !' L ■I 1 I darted off to some rooms by themselves — 70, 80, 81, — no use ! Getting hold of the waiter, he exclaimed, as an idea seemed to flash on him — '* Oh ! I know where you've gone wrong ! open the door of No. 12 bed-room and that will show a long pas- sage — go straight down that ! " Doing all this, I came to Nos. 23, 26, 30, 35 — but no 36. Arriving at a small staircase, there at the bottom of it was the fugitive, long-sought-for number ! When I had shut the door, what was my surprise to see across the room another door. The apartment resembled those of old German inns, associated with robbery, murder, an 1 ghost stories, where the door handle slowly turns, and a mysterious white figure glides in upon the tenant of the room — Ha ! the handle of this door really did begin to turn, and a man in a white glazed coat stepped suddenly into the floor — " What ? are you ^^ too? demanded he, pointing to that number on /lis door. '* No!" I exclaimed, pointing to v/y door — "I'm 36!" Tableau. Then we both laughed, and each took one of the two beds that occupied the room. Christchurch is built on flat ground, on part of the Canterbury Plains. To the eastward, a few miles off, rises the high ground of Banks' Peninsula, overlooking Port Lyttelton, and separat- ing Christchurch from the sea. When the first settlers arrived, they are said to have shed tears at seeing this imposing barrier standing between the sea and such a land of promise as the plains presented. True, a road was riiade over the hills, but it was almost too steep for trafiic, and Christchurch for a long time could be said to have no satisfactory communication with the sea. But the Canterbury people, with an enterprise worthy of all praise, have bored a tunnel a mile and three quarters long through the mountains, at a cost of ;^2oo,ooo, putting Christchurch and Port Lyttelton into direct railway connection. The province of Canterbury came into being as a Church of England settlement. The first ship arrived in December of 1850, two years and a half after the Scottish settlers arrived at Dunedin. The scheme of exclusiveness did not succeed here any more than in Otago. The settlement rapidly became a mixed community. All denominations flocked to Canterbury, attracted by its many advantages. The province has made great progress. It has an area of 8,693,000 acres, two and a half million of which form the vast Canterbury Plains. The population of the province in 1874 was 58,770. Christchurch itself occupies a mile square, and has inTound numbers 10,000 inhabitants. W( >rbury round jparat- rrived, jarrier as the but it I long n with kvorthy .larters utting lection. rch of ber of ved at here ame a rbury, made and a The church 10,000 ChristchurcJu 199 Christchurch is a fine mellow city. The streets are named after Church of England bishoprics. The asphalte pavements are sheltered with glass-roofed verandahs — some painted green, some white, but most left transparent. The chief feature of Christchurch, however, is its trees. Small triangular reserves of English elms are met with here and there about the town. Shady avenues delight the eye at frequent intervals, and every vista ends in clumps of willows. The whole town is interwoven with trees. Yet twenty-three years ago, Christchurch was a collection of treeless hillocks, the country becoming more and more sandy and sterile as it approached the sea. Except one or two of the principal streets, there is none of them that has the hard rigidity of outline, the stern business-like appearance one attaches to a metropolitan thoroughfare. There is a freedom of style, an air of saying, " This is a street certainly — it cannot altogether be disguised — but everything has been done to make you believe otherwise." Christchurch seemed to us a country town on a large scale, and was a most beautiful combination of the sylvan and the urban. At one street corner we saw a railed-in artesian well. Christchurch has to dig down for its water. The wells are fed by an underground flow of the River Waimakariri through the shingly subsoil of the plains. Everybody talks to you about these wonderful wells, and you begin at last to think them (without a pun) a great bore. In another quarter we came upon a cluster of flesh-coloured wooden houses, with high jieaked gables, hanging eaves, and panelled fronts outlined in brown — like theatrical cottages or old English hostelries — with attics, too, goggling out of the steep roof, like staring eyes, as if the houses were in great wonder at the more modern buildings around. One almost expected to see, in the middle of the street, a company of lads and lasses dancing hand-in-hand round a festooned May-pole. In Cathedral Square we saw the foundations of the grand new ecclesiastical edifice of Christchurch, which is exi)ected to cost no less than ;^5o,ooo. Lately the work had languished from want of funds, but more money has been raised, work has been started again, and the masonry is now about nine feet above the ground. ^7000 have been buried in the foundations of this cathedral. The hotel was excellent. The charges were moderate, as they are in most New Zealand hotels. Eight to ten shillings a day is the usual charge for a single person — boarders by the week pay two guineas. The servants were all English. Instead f m 1 ; \ 1 If ^i if 11 '! \ i 200 I ''! ' 'm;. ! I Kennedy s Colonial Travel. ^ of the Bridget and Molly of Melbourne, or the Jessie and Maggie of Dunedin, we had Sarah, Susan, and Mary Jane. The boarders were chiefly clerks, bank managers, families on visits, scjuatters, and squatters' sons. Some of the young gentle- men spent the day in i)laying billiards or hanging round the smok- ing-room ; others in shooting, boating, and cricketing. Once a party of them came home in a lamentable, almost ludicrous plight — one run over by a waggonette, another with his arm in a sling, and a third fearfully lame from football. In a day or two, however, they were all uj) and doing — nothing. Every morning as we came down to breakfast, we passed a long array of half-open doors, through which the waiters were busy insert- ing glasses of ale and bottles of soda-water to the fast young gentlemen inside. We became accjuainted here with one of these very aristocratic young Englishmen, and were much amused at his peculiarities. We have not forgotten the look of deep disgust upon his face when, after ordering a conveyance, he saw a hackney cab drive to the door instead of a hansom ! We still recollect our interview with him when we met at the Kaiapoi Regatta, a short distance from town. " Ah ! there you are then," said he; "dooced nuisance ; was coming down in a tandem, but one of the horses got lamed, and I had to come down by rail. Confound it ! And did you," with a look of commiseration, "did you have to come down by rail, too?" A fewstepsfrom the hotel and we reached the pretty little River Avon, which runs through the town. Its banks are sheltered by luxuriant, heavy-plumed willows, beautiful but at the same time melancholy, that throw their dense shadows upon the stream. Small white bridges spanned the river. Leaning over one of these, we looked down the long vista of trees, their branches drooping into the eddies, and watched the circles near the shore stirring the green weeds. The sun shone warmly on our backs, throwing our shadows and the shadow of the bridge down to the bottom of the clear stream. We api)eared to be miles away from town. The rumble of the big water-wheel at the large flour-mills was faintly heard, and the distant rattle of a cart, but nothing more. Near here were the public gardens, enclosed in a pear-shaped loop of this River Avon. The walks, dotted with rustic seats, were exquisite. A small park contained a number of deer, which were so tame as to troop round and eat out of our hands. Croquet obtains to some extent, and a " Toxophilite Society" holds its meetings here. The Moa. 201 In the centre of a grassy reserve, forming part of the gardens, stands the museum, a large stone building. The director is Dr Haast, a German savant, who has done great service to scientific discovery in New Zealand. All the objects are pro- perly classified and disi)layed. One side of a gallery contains cases of insects — locusts as big as lobsters — spiders like crabs — carpet-patterned butterflies from every clime — insects of all kinds, from the humblest i)in-])ointibus to the largest and most important armour-plated beetle. At the end of one room is a weird tal)leau — a row of human skeletons, in the centre of which stands the grinning framework of a gorilla — satire worthy of a Darwin. But of all the sights we saw in this museum, none excited our wonder more than the skeletons of the Moas, the giant birds of New Zealand, supposed to be now extinct in the islands. They must have been feathered giraffes. The skeleton of a moa, through the limbs being set far back and the breast overhanging, resembles that of a giraffe with the front legs lopj)ed off. The body is comparatively small, but the thigh-bones are three or four times thicker than a man's. The leg-bones are elephantine, and filled with marrow instead of air. In the Wellington Museum there is a moa's foot with a toe eight inches and a half in length, while toe- prints have even been seen ten inches long. The largest kind of moa is the Dinornis Elcphantopus, and thirteen feet its average height. None of these huge birds were able to lly. It is said they were fat and stupid creatures — that they lived in forests, mountain-fastnesses and secluded caves — that they were vege- tarians, but swallowed stones for digestion's sake — that they were in the habit of sleeping on one leg — and that they subsisted on fern-roots, which they dug up with their enormous toes. Moa remains were first discovered in 1839 by the Rev. Richard Taylor, a missionary in the North Island. Moa's eggs were found in 1852, in a position showing that the birds had been killed by the ancestors of the present Maorics. The fragments of the eggs were fitted together by the scientific gentleman who found them, and several of those restored actually consisted of between 200 and 300 pieces ! One perfect egg was found, nine inches in diameter, twelve inches long, and 27 inches in circumference. Every now and then, bones are unearthed from the sand-heaps or old ovens of the Maories, with a heap of quartz jjebbles near them which had once been in the animal's gizzard. The natives are said to have slain the moas in immense battues. Can there be, by the slightest possibility, TFi M ■ f^ \\ i J '■ M \ ' . • \ . *' \ ) f ■ ) 1 \ . 1 1 '1 i i kM I I ■ ' li ! k. 202 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. \ i\ any moa alive now? is the question asked by the pubHc as well as the scientific mind. The colossal bird is known for certain to be extinct in the North Island, but is likely to be met with in the wild, almost inaccessible fastnesses of the Southern Alps. Being a night-bird, and thought to be very shy, it might have eluded all notice up to the present time. Dr Haast is said to have heard tlie cry of the moa. One night encamping with some fellow-explorers on the edge of an extensive forest in the great Middle Range of the .Soutli Island, he was startled by its powerful call. It awakened the whole party. They had all, at one time or another, heard the voice of the kiwiy the well-known large wingless bird of New Zealand ; but it was the cry of a child compared to the trumpet-tones of this giant ! Moa's' tracks were seen in these wilds, two feet wide, running through the manuka scrub. Just a day or two ago the news- papers were ringing with reports of the "Capture of Two Moas." A telegram was published in Christchurch from a man on the West Coast, who said he had succeeded in lassoing the wonders. Great was the interest evoked amongst the people of New Zea- land. The Melbourne papers even took up the cry, one of them going the length of crowding out politics and devoting a leading article to the discovery. The Messrs Moa, however, were not to be caught. A later telegram came, stating the rope had broken, and that they had escaped. Just so ! This looming " bird of the wilderness " has yet to meet the eye of a white man. One day a Waterloo veteran called on us. He was a physical wonder — eighty-four years of age, yet straight as a poker — had a fine head and bold features, and wore a cap that denoted long military seivice. He launched at once into anecdote and reminiscence — telling us, in one continuous stream, the principal events of his life. He was born in Fife, but had Highland kinsfolk — enlisted early as a soldier, and lodged at the house of Mrs Grant of Laggan — knew Jamie Hogg, and used to "blow up" Nathaniel Gow for his new-fangled arrangements of reels — went all through the Peninsular War, learned Gaelic from the Highlanders on the heights of Montmartre, plunged into the gaieties of Paris, fought at Waterloo, and had been on half-pay since 1817. We seemed to be shaking hands with the past. The veteran, however, was as full of the present as any one of the rising generation — explained the land laws of the colony, spoke of " ceevilisation " as " deevilisation," and, with " kindling fury in his breast," inveighed against the reigning fd long and :ipal rhland house d to ts of J Gaelic llunged leen on kth the las any of the Id, with leigning The Canterbury Pilgrims. 203 follies of the day. Suddenly, like the great Alexander, his mood changed, for, seeing a fiddle lying on the table, he snatched it up, and dashed at once into a most inspiring strath- spey. Then he took a breath, said something more about Nathaniel's bad arrangement of reels, picked up his stick, made a salute, and went towards the door; but abruptly stopped, wheeled round, and gave us the whole of the sword-exercise in a most masterly style — then made another salute, went off in double-quick time, and strode erect, with martial step, down the gravel walk in front of the hotel. This vigorous old man was like a great gulp of mountain air to us in this placid city of Christchurch. Being a Church of England settlement, you are apt to imagine this town more English than it really is. At one time, indeed, the Canterbury Pilgrims, as the early settlers were called, "ruled the roast " in social matters. Those who came out in the " first four ships " were looked up to by later arrivals. To have " come over with the Conqueror " bade fair to pale in face of having " come over in one of the first four ships." In the Southern States of America you claim blue blood by belonging to one of the "first families." In Canter- bury you had no right to be heard unless you were a passenger in one of these irrepressible " first four ships." But the old worthies are dying out now ; and on great social occasions, or at public meetings, the " fifth and sixth ship" i)eople have to be brought in to do the honours. Later years, as we have seen, introduced likewise a more cosmopolitan state of affairs. Scotchmen have become largely part and parcel of the com- munity. This is shown by the way English people playfully introduce quaint Scotch words and phrases into their conver- sation. Even the French man-cook at the hotel, when we asked him how he was, burst out briskly with, " Ha ! eem per-r-rawlee, zenk you for zbeerecn ! " However, he resided for some time in Otago, where his " well of pure French undefiled" had doubtless been contaminated. At the same hotel, too, porridge formed a prominent item on the public breakfast-table, and was " deservedly a favourite " with the aristocratic boarders, who generally went in for "second shares." As instancing the Caledonian element in Christchurch, we were told that of all the mayors who have held office in the city, two only have not been Scotch. Working people are well off in Christchurch, as we will see by one or two plain facts, which are the best means for de- i' t! ^:t. ill 204 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. . :. Riii "■< \\ < i picting tcmi)oral happiness or the reverse in a new country. A Scotsman, of course, will have a predilection for Otago ; an Englishman will prefer Canterbury. But the prospects of each will be about evenly balanced. We met in Christchurch a carpenter from (llasgow, who was in the receipt of ;^3, Cs. a week— IIS. a day of eight hours. Not that his was an ex- ceptional instance of good fortune. 'I'his is the standard pay of a good workman. There is an evident desire here, as in Dunedin, to reasonably decrease the liours of work. " Never shop after two on Saturdays ! " is placarded on the walls by an Pearly Closing Association. The wages of the building trades are from los. to 12s. a day of eight hours; that of the iron trades, ^^ a week, with the same number of hours. Then, as to the cost of living, there is nothing to fear. The rent of a four-roomed cottage is from los. to 12s. per week; a six- roomed cottage, from 15s. to 20s. ; family houses, from ;^7o to ;^i20 per annum. Clothing is considerably dearer than at home, but food is cheap. Beef is from 3d. to 6d. a pound — mutton, 2d. to 3d. As to education, children can have in- struction for a very low sum. In the ]niblic schools no fees are charged, but every householder living within three miles of the school has to pay ;;^i a year, and a further sum of 5s. for every child he has between the ages of six and thirteen. No person, however, is liable to pay more than ^1 for his children, no matter how numerous, so that ;^2 is the extreme limit a householder can be charged for the support of the school. All the branches and elementary education are taught. The Bible is not read in the school, but clergymen visit at stated times to impart religious instruction to their several denominations. Children, whose parents or guardians object, are not compelled to be present at the teaching of history. Can the spirit of toleration further go ? After singing three weeks in Christchurch, where the Scottish songs were as highly relished as in Dunedin, we went to the country town of Rangiora. Hundreds of immigrants had just been scattered through the province. No doubt the new arrivals would all be settling down comfortably to their colonial life, with willing hands and stout hearts, nourishing few regrets. I hope many of them were unlike the servant- maid who waited on us at the Rangiora Hotel. She had been eight months out from London, and was sad at heart, because in this small place she missed the crowds of people and long continuity of well-lighted shops in Oxford and Regent )ttish the just new I their shing Kant- had lieart, iople igent An Exciting Regatta. 205 Streets. Certainly, for those who Hke bustle and enjoy shop- windows, these scattered hamlets and townships arc not at all suitable. There is hardship, but plenty of money to be made. We saw some 'excellent country during this trip — agricultural land that had been made the most of. Some of the ploughed furrows were nearly a quarter of a mile long. What Ontario is to Canada, Otago and Canterbury are to New Zealand. At Kaiapoi, twelve miles from Christchurch, we saw a very exciting boat-race. It took place on the River Waimakariri. The little town was blushing with flags. Carts, drays, cabs, and hansoms lined the river banks. The dense flax had been cut away from the water's edge on one side, to allow an unbroken view of the race. A hulking, dirty steamer, gay with bunting, steamed up and down, grounding every few yards in shallow water, and at one time, by the violence of the shock, throwing the steersman over the wheel and almost overboard. Great was the excitement when the races commenced. A little bridge si)anning the river was lined with human beir^, ;. 'I'hc people on the water side elbowed for standing room. The great struggle was the three-mile race for the prize of ^£"150. For this, a crew from Wellington, a crew from Christchurch, and a crew from Hokitika, the West Coast gold field, had entered. Round a bend in the river came the competing boats, with on one side a breathless, running crowd of well-wishers yelling out to their favourite crews, and on the opposite bank, crashing through the uncut flax and scrub, a solid mass of fifty or sixty horsemen tearing frantically along some half mile to the winning-post. On came the competitors, the leading crew pulling strongly and steadily, but the others rowing wildly. Amid great cheering the sturdy Hokitika men came easily to the goal. We enjoyed the regatta immensely, more especially that demoralized Rotten Row, the i)onderous rush of horsemen on the river bank. We would not for all the world have missed that glorious stampede of cavalry. We took the train from Christchurch to Port Lyttelton, and passed through the wonderful tunnel connecting the two places. A dark ride of five minutes brought us into the open air and into full view of Port Lyttelton. The town is hemmed round by an enormous amphitheatre of hills, many of tlicm hundreds of feet high, with jagged volcanic peaks, forming to the eye a wide sweep of mountain-side. The houses have extended a good way up the slopes, which of course does not detract from the exceeding picturesqueness of the town. The I' hrl I i ■ li^l ■ .;»- ,h 206 Kennedys Colotiial Travel. harbour is spacious and protected by the irregularly-shaped heights of Banks' Peninsula. We found a very good hotel here, albeit the charges were ten shillings a head per day, an unusual rate for any but the highest class of houses. After tea, just as the twilight was setting in, we took a walk along a high road skirting one side of the harbour. The gloominess and silence of the scene were very impressive. The ships' lamps, gleaming far below, shone in the perfectly calm water, and the lights of the town, seen against a dark lofty background, twinkled thickly at the water's edge and thinned away up on the black face of the hills. Rounding a corner, the road brought us all at once completely from the town and the shipping, and stretched before our eyes the entire length of Port Lyttelton — the sombre expanse of water in a still more sombre furrow of mountains, extending some miles towards the Heads. r i. CHAPTER XVI. 'I '■Am |i[f fir WELLINGTON — THE HUTT VALLEY- -cook's STRAITS- -NELSON. We left Port Lyttelton for Wellington in the steamship "Lady Bird," 286 tons. The passengers were chiefly commercial men, several folks on urgent business, one or two going to attend some meeting or market — in short, persons who had to travel, and could not help it. I have a feeling we did not see in New Zealand so many people on pleasure trips, or on friendly visits, as we would have observed in the old country. Steamboat accommodation is not in a very matured state on the New Zealand coast. The vessels are small, often over- crowded, and not very punctual. The fares might be reduced with advantage. Yoa pay ^{^3 saloon, or ^2 steerage, from Lyttelton to Wellington, a distance of 170 miles. From Dunedin to Auckland (something over 700 miles, the longef:t; trip of the steamboat), costs ^8 in the saloon, and j^^ in the steerage. But fares are high all over the colonies. Even going from Melbourne to Sydney, a little over 500 miles, you have to pay ^4. in the saloon. However, as I said, the steam- boat services of the colonies are steadily improving. There was one passenger on board, who was a marked exception to the rest, in so far as he was bound on no business whatever, but simply bent on pleasure. He was the town-clerk of Hokipoki (as we shall call it) out for a holiday. He was an old man, with juvenile spirits — one of those persons who seem blest with perpetual youth — " life-boys," as our humourist calls them ! " I love the sea," exclaimed the town-clerk as we sailed down the smooth harbour — " I doat on it — by George, this air is positively— eh ? — positively splendid ! " In the morning we awoke far from well, but went upstairs to have a breath of fresh air. The sky was clear, the sun bright, the wind blowing strong, and the water bursting into rainbows. On a seat lay stretched the town-clerk of Hokipoki. He seemed to be fast asleep; but when we approached he opened his eyes fishily and moaned out, '* A-a-h, that's you, is it? I forgot say suffer headache at 1 t 208 Kennedys Colonial Travel. sea — bad — that's drawback — 0-0-h, ugh I — severe headache too ■ — but I'm not sick— must go — downstairs — glass — wa-a-ater ! " and the unfortunate admirer of the sea disappeared into the saloon. In the course of the morning those of the passengers who were able to keep on deck gathered into a group and amused each other with " yarns of the sea." One man related an incident that occurred to his friend Brown, when, upon arriving from England at Port Lyttelton, the passengers drank the health of the vessel. Friend Brown, a water-drinker, being asked to partake, said, " No ! I'm a teetotaler ; but " (with a jaunty air) " I'll willingly drink success to the ship in the liquor she floats in ! " The steward disappeared, and returned with a tumbler of water. Brown, after a complimentary mumble, gulped it off at once, but immediately spluttered out, "Ugh ! — ■ ah — ow ! — this is — ooh ! — Epsom, Gregor}- — what — what the materia medica is this?" "That!" exclaimed the steward; "why, you've drunk success to our noble shi^) in the identical liquor she floats in ! " Of course we had all to laugh at this story, which encouraged another man to burst out with " Ha, ha, ha— talking of drinking, the ship I came out in had a captain and mate who were continually quarrelling on the voyage. They fought it out in the log-book. The captain wrote down one evening, ' Mate drunk to-day,' which the mate no sooner saw next morning than he scribbled underneath, * Captain sober to-day ! ' Had him there ! " With stories like these the time passetl pleasantly. The shores of the South Island became indistinct. We were crossing the eastern extremity of Cook's Straits, the famous channel separating the principal islands of New Zealand. We had left the South Island, with its prosperous settlements, its thriving towns, its " mountain and its flood," its Alpine ranges, its immense plains, its many gold fields, its large farms, its extensive sheep-runs. Now we were turning our eyes towards the North Island, with its older setdements, its beautiful scenery, its rich vegetation, its volcanic wonders, its burning mountain, its geysers, warm lakes, and hot springs — in short, to Maori-Land. Steaming on, we saw the entrance to Port Nicholson, the harbour of Wellington — a rugged mouth, armed on the western shore by sharp rocky teeth, between which were sticking the bones of several vessels wrecked during a gale. Entering the Heads, we came in view of Somes' Island, on which the quarantine station is perched, rounded the Miramar Peninsula, and soon the whole panorama of Wellington unfolded itself before us. Wellington. 209 V\ \ '» anges, ns, its )\vards autiful iirning short, , Port louth, itween luring ^land, a the nuton Port Nicholson is a commodious, fairly-sheltered harbour, seven miles long and five miles broad. The town is built on a fringe of land, backed by hills like Dunedin ; but the houses do not rise so high on the heights behind. It is splendidly situated for pictorial effect. No place we have seen makes so much of its opportunity ; every part of it is visible in the long stretch of buildings that line the harbour. Wellington is the capital of New Zealand, a distinction conferred upon it in 1865. Auckland was formerly the chief town of the colony, but jealousies in the South Island, and the fact that the seat of Government was becoming too remote for the growing interests of Otago and Canterbury, made some more central position necessary. The city of Wellington has 10,675 inhabitants, the province of Wellington 29,654. The capital is now- crowned with a triple honour — being the seat of a City Corpora- tion, under the Mayor ; the seat of its Provincial Council, under its Superintendent ; and the seat of the Colonial Parlia- ment, under his Excellency the Governor. Imagine a timber-built metropolis ! Wellington, being subject to earthquakes, is constructed entirely of wood. It has, how- ever, really a splendid appearance. Grand cornices, towers, steeples, balconies, verandahs, porches, shop-fronts, and pillars are seen at every turn — all wooden, but having quite an impos- ing look (in two senses) even when you are close to them. It is surprising the variety and elegance of form produced by means of wood, supplemented by paint and sand. The town curves in horse-shoe fashion round the edge of the harbour. It is narrow, strange to say, in the central portion, and widens out at each end on the flats of Te Aro and Thorndon. All the country about Wellington is mountainous. But for a road and railway that run along the beach to the Hutt Valley, and struggle, as it were, for foothold between the hills and the sea, the capital would have very imperfect connection with the back country of the province. We lived at the " Empire Hotel," the abode of comfort. The building was formerly a theatre, and there was plenty of space everywhere. A lofty hall and broad stairs met our eye on entering. Our sitting-room had an abnormally high ceiling, round which the flies seemed to be soaring like larks in a distant aerial vault. The private rooms were separated from the public by a courtyard, crossed at both ends by a high enclosed gallery. There was also a kind of smoking verandah at the back, where the boarders discussed their cigars, and gazed o :< ■ I II l! :i i^- 'II ^ 210 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. out upon the harbour — for the water came close to the hotel and lapped the stone foundations. The hotel, with several other buildings in town, put us greatly in mind of the amphibious houses of Lerwick, in Shetland. The water was positively dark with fish. Any rubbish emptied out by the cook immediately attracted thousands ; a morsel of garbage instantly became a focus of fish. I never saw water alive before. The small fry stewed and simmered in dense layers, literally hustling each other up above the surface. You had simply to throw in your line, and it tightened immediately. The terms of the hotel, as we saw on small bills pasted in the bed-rooms, were: — "For single gentlemen, los. per day, ^^3 per week; for two or more weeks, J[^2, los. Married couples '^bed-room and sitting-room), J[^\Q) per week." No one who intends making Wellington his home need be frightened at the earthquakes. There are occasional shocks felt, but they are not alarmingly powerful. The shocks at Wellington are as distinct from the earthquakes of South America as a breeze is from a typhoon. Wellington is the centre of atmospheric as well as terrestrial disturbances. The blasts blow over the harbour remorselessly. As a Dunedin man, it is said, can be told by his stoop, as if climbing hills ; so a Wellington man is known abroad by the mechanical way he screws up his eyes and claj)s his hand on his hat ! One storm we will not forget in a hurry. It was during the month of April, which corresponds to our October. The gale blew from the north-east. The sky became clogged with clouds. The surface of the harbour was obscured every moment by a thin veil of spray swept from the to])s of the waves. The hotel swayed and creaked like an old ship during the gusts. To write steadily was far from easy. There was a continual rattle of roof- iron, a clatter of Venetian blinds, and a violent slamming of doors. Lull and gust followed in regular succession for hours, till a downpour of rain, crashing on the iron roofs of the buildings, came as a new feature in the storm. Every night we saw about as queer a way of lighting street lamps as could well be imagined. A rattle of hoofs was heard, and a man cantered up on horseback to a lamp-post. He drew bridle, rose up, stood on the saddle like a circus-rider, struck a match, lit the lamp, sank once more into the stirrups, and galloped noisily otit — the ra])idly-increasing lights bearing testimony to the quick- ness of this novel system. Here we saw IVIaories for the first time in any numbers. lotel veral the r was { the rbage efore. erally ply to terms ooms, week ; l-room -ed be shocks >cks at South , is the bances. )uneclin lills; so way he le storm >onth of lew from s. 'I'he Inumbcrs. The Maories. 211 Going along Lambton Quay we met a native in full European costume — in velvet coat, light tweed trousers, and white hat, with silver-headed cane and heavy gold chain, and tattooed so that you could scarcely distinguish his eyes. Every inch of him proclaimed "Am I not a man and a swell?" and he looked as if he owned thousands of acres, as perhaps he did, or as if he were a member of Parliament, as i)erhaps he was, for there are four Maories now in the Assembly— two on the Government benches, and two on the Opi)osition. Maories, taught by white man's example, are worldly wise, and take care of their broad acres, leasing them well or selling them at a goodly price. Many of the natives are rich, have large farms, cultivate their land, and come in with their crops to market as regularly as any of the settlers. The Maories are well-built fellows, with brown skin, black straight hair, sharp eyes, and high cheek-bones like a China- man. None but the older natives bear the tattoo marks. The younger men have learned better, or have been shamed out of the custom by contact with the whites. They are brave, excitable, shrewd, patriotic, and eloquent. We were informed by a member of the Legislative Assembly (and therefore a judge) that they were *' grand spouters." Their store of tradition, fable, i)oetry, proverb, and song is endless. They are undoubtedly the Scotchmen of savages, though there is one thing against this comparison — their women are ugly ! A Maori man is nearly always superior in looks to his better half Some of the very young women have a kind of comeliness, but theyage fast. They have big thick lips, flat noses, narrow foreheads, liquid eyes, and, terrible to relate, are guilty of inveterate smoking. The Maories are said to be very lazy at times ; but what savage or what civilized man of any standing can clear himself of this charge ? We saw more Maories — Maori girls in tartan dresses and Rob Roy shawls; others in light blue gowns; and, as we well remember, a Maori and his wife walking along the jxave- ment in decent middle-class clothes, the husband carrying the baby very dutifully, and his spouse gazing at the ribbons in the drapers' windows. Both displayed high civilisation ! P>ery sperity iblers, ;n who ip their |d they, -just s seen ■e. As ill-luck .d gone las also A Mysterious Haggis. 215 not unknown. A seedy man was pointed out on the street who had achieved fame by running through a fortune of ;^ 1 00,000. It was our privilege to meet some nice people here. We became acquainted with one of the '* merchant princes " of WelHngton — a Scotsman, who, with his lady, showed us great kindness. One of our mornings was taken up by a gossip with a very old but well-preserved gentleman from the Hutt. Like the veteran we met in Christchurch, he was interested in events that had long passed into history. His conversation was musty — he seemed to be speaking in old-faced type— vocally the same to us as if we were reading some worm-eaten book. He was a literary character, a university-bred Edinburgh man — was acquainted with men that were friends of Burns — knew Chloris and Clarinda, and spoke of the Potterrow as quite a fashionable street. His antic^ue gossip was interspersed with fragments of Scottish songs, but always the versions that have now either become quaint or almost obsolete. In bidding him good-bye, we felt like losing our hold on the link of a chain that stretched back into " auld lang syne." We found that in the colonies a person's home-yearnings lay considerably in a culinary direction. An example came before us here of a courageous but inexperienced lady trying to please her Scottish husband by making a haggis ! We had the thrilling story from her own lips. By dint of long reading and research, the ingredients were all carefully collected and prepared. Ere the final making of the dish, a female friend was called into consultation. Then the last act was done. Plump ! went the globular mass into the pot. A mutual smile of triumph spread over the faces of the two ladies, but it was quickly changed to an expression of dismay as they saw the unlucky haggis floating on the top ! Strenuous efforts were made to poke it down, but the national dish obstinately persisted in its attempts to prove itself light eating. The despairing operators latterly called in an exjierienced woman from next door, who counselled them to i)uncture the pudding with a fork. This done, to the joy of all concerned, the offending haggis " sank beneath the wave." After some hours' boiling, it was dished, but the result pro veil utter failure, for the haggis was unfit to eat, and was viewed with a distaste which not even a strong love of country could successfully overcome. Though not here during the season of fashionable /f/^^, there was a very important " assembly " held at this time — the ball 1 1 ■ ■ I I .X ."- f ■■■A v\ 2l6 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. \ given by Messrs Ikogden, the contractors, on the completion of the eight-mile railway to the Hutt. All the elite of the town were gathered together. Five hundred ladies and gentlemen put in an ai)pearance, among them the Hon. Julius Vogel, Mrs Vogel, and other members of the "Government." Of course there were Maories present — fashionable Maories, for none else could be admitted. One of them was worth jQdooo a year. The Hon. \Vi 'I'ako was there, also Miss Wi 'J'ako, and several others. The native ladies, when they come into town for a ball or party, get themselves up in really grand style, but do not feel one bit comfortable in such an unaccustomed dress. Their boots feel tight, for one thing. 'J'he brown damsels go into corners every now and then, and nurse their toes. This, however, may be one of those slanders which are so rife against tiie poor Maories. We had an interesting drive to die Hutt Valley, in a cab the glazed side-curtains of which had been blown to pieces a day or two before by a violent gale. The road was narrow, and ivent side by side with the railway along the edge of the harbour. By the seashore an old Maori woman was filling a basket with cockles, a favourite native dish. A cartful of Maories met us. Two w^omen, dressed in bright-dyed matting, and with coloured cloth bands round their heads, scjuatted and smoked in the bottom of the vehicle, waved their hands towards us, and showed great signs of delight ; while we, not to be outdone in politeness by savages, returned them (juite a wind- mill salute with our arms. Three other Maories galloped past us — one, dressed in tweeds and a felt hat, rode in front, with a double-barrelled gun slung over his shoulder, followed by two younger men — all dressed as neatly and as picturesquely as if they had just made their exit from a " Monster Clothing Shop." The sites of various Maori "])ahs" were i)ointed out to us. Twenty-five years ago, ten or twelve of these fortified enclosures commanded the heights we were now i)assing, and were con- structed to prevent the incursions of other Maories from the neighbourhood of Taranaki. We passed Ngahauranga, a station on this Hutt line — what a mouthful for the shouting railway- porter ! Near here stood in former years the pah of Waripori, an influential Maori; but its strength and glory have long since decayed, and all that is seen on the hillside now is the monu- ment to the great chief — his once formidable war-canoe, half buried, prow up, in the earth that covers his remains. The Hutt Valley is a quiet place, shaded by steep hills, and The Hutt Valley. 217 ards to be wind- past ith a )y two as if hop." o us. osures con- m the tation ihvay- ripori, since monu- half and fertile. This lovely spot was a different place twenty-eight years ago. After the treaty of Waitangi, Hone Heke, an ambi- tious Maori chief, with a band of inflamed followers, disclaimed the sovereignty of the Queen, tore down the British flag at Kororareka, laid the i)lace in ruins, and swept down the Island. On the 1 6th of March 1846, fifty Maories attacked a garrison at the Hutt, slew six men, and severely wounded others ; then swam to the main body of the tribe across the river, where two imndrcd of the savages executed a wild war-dance in honour of the massacre. Wellington at this time was under martial law, and tlie settlers were flocking in from the Hutt for i)rotection. Europeans were murdered in the remoter districts of this valley. The settlers were armed and kept on the alert in outposts. So serious did matters become that the abandonment of Port Nicholson was earnestly talked of, but the settlers boldly lived through all these times of danger, and now reap the fruits of energy and perseverance. This was the first serious Maori outl)reak — known to old colonists as " Ileke's War." During the few hours of our visit we had a talk with several old residents ; met also a man who was the only surviving member of a large family murdered by the Maories. We went into a store the keei)er of which had been thirty-four years here, and had led a peaceable life with the natives. The store was, as is usual, a lot of shops in one — sold ironmongery, drapery, grocery, boots and shoes, beer and ale, medicine, tallow, oil, books, stationery, and a host of other things. What a blow to the art of "shopping." How could any city-bred ])erson stand here and buy everything he wanted at once ? Our storekeeper had not much to say against the natives, several of whom were in making purchases. They trusted him, or rather he " trusted " them. All over the world, it would seem, the only way to gain the confidence of a savage is to deal honourably by him. Of course there is another side to the picture. Before the war of 1846, some of the Maories had got largely into debt with the storekeeper, who had been just a little too trusting. After the fighting was over, he ventured to put in his little biil, but it was laughed to scorn. " No, no," said the Maories, *'the war pay all ! " A new state of things had commenced, in their opinion. And our friend of the shop is not paid to this day. We had a rough journey crossing Cook's Straits to Nelson. Leaving Wellington Heads the steamer encountered the usual gale that blows through the Pentland Firth of New Zealand. The \ ■ * 1 1 J i I'll ! i .; Ml i^l : '<) \ 2l8 Kennedy s Colonial Travel, ' i wind blew a hurricane — the spray flew like rain over the vessel — one blast tore a sail into rags. Irishmen, (lermans, Chinamen, and Maories filled the fore part of the small steamboat. The Irishmen proudly flourished their brogue, the German farmers sang together " Die Wacht am Rhein ; " the Maories, their faces quite blue with tattoo-marks, talked volubly in their rather melancholy tones ; the Chinamen moved oilily about the stalls on deck, and chucked the horses under their chins. The captain, like many others we met in the colonies, had a strong taste for music, mixing up orders and patches of tunes in a very amusing way. "Let's drink his health in wine — port!" " When the swallows homeward fly — north by west ! " " Loud roared the dreadful thunder — how's her head?" Just about dusk we approached the lofty headlands marking the entrance to Queen Charlotte's Sound, up which we steamed to Picton, a port on the way to Nelson. 'I'he water was calm, and locked in by bold, ponderous land, that stood out magnificently in the deepening darkness. At eight o'clock, after twenty miles of this grand Sound, we were moored at Picton, and the moon gave us a glimpse of the scattered, hill-surrounded township. The population is not large, but it has swollen 300 during the last three years, owing, as a rival town has it, to a vessel having been wrecked here, and relieved of her passengers ! We had a moonlight stroll, and then came back to bed. The bunks were the smallest we had ever seen. A person boasting five feet of height had to lie with pyramidal knees. Four in- dividuals breathed the air of one. Between every eight berths was a small wash stand, and a person had to watch lynx-eyed for a momentary dash at the basin. The steamer left Picton at four in the morning. About breakfast-time, we approached the " French Pass," which separates an island from the mainland. We were told to look for the deep funnel-holes in the water, caused by the swirling of the sea through the narrow channel — also for the heaving of the vessel in the throes of the tide. Disappointment ensued. The waters went into small whirlpools, but there was no great tidal phenomena. However, the sail through the exceedingly contracted passage, with high cliffs on either hand, was very interesting. We could have thrown a biscuit on shore at one side. The steamer entered Blind Bay, and drew gradually up to Nelson. The sun was hot, and the sea shone smooth. Every one lay at full length on the deck. The general feeling both of sea and sky was one of extreme somnolence. By-and- Nelson. 219 by we noticed a strange sight — what we had taken for a long stretching shingle beach began to move past (|uicker than the coast-line. Of course we concluded that this " beach " was much nearer to us than the shore. It was the famous Boulder Bank, the natural breakwater to Nelson Harbour. This strange formation runs for eight miles along the coast. It is supposed by geologists to have been washed down from a headland and gradually carried out by the tides. Nelson is situated on the northern shores of the South Island, at the western extremity of Cook's Straits. Geographi- cally, it should have followed our description of Christchurch, but the steamer goes from the latter i)lace to Wellington, then zig-zags back through the Straits to Nelson. This i)lace was named after the hero of Trafalgar, its streets after his famous compatriots. It was founded by the New Zealand Company, who were encouraged by the success of their first settlement at Wellington. The young colony progressed under some difficulties. After a while, it was found that the site selected was not large enough, so a band of explorers departed in search of additional country. The fertile Wairau Valley was discovered. Two chiefs, Rauparaha and Rangihaeta, claimed it by conquest, came over Cook's Straits with a body of followers, and drove the expedition away. The police magistrate then armed seventy special constables, thinking by a simple display of force to frighten the Maories. But the Europeans, labouring men not used to fire-arms, found themselves no match for the Maori warriors. The natives forced the settlers up the hills, and slew twenty-two of them. Such was the famous Wairau Massacre, which took place thirty years ago, and did so great damage to British prestige in New Zealand. It was the first and last encounter in the South Island between the Maories and the settlers. Nelson rises on a gentle slope from the harbour. It is the headquarters of quietness — cradled amongst hills, and fanned to sleep by warm zephyrs, with its back turned to the winds and the tumult of the Straits. The heavens look benignly upon it — the climate is the most enjoyable in the colony. Nelson, by universal consent, is called the " Garden of New Zealand." It is almost impossible to speak of it in moderate language. The streets of the town looked to us like roads — the houses were principally peak-gabled wooden houses, with here and there a square stone " block " — while taking the place of street lamps were green oil-lanterns on the top of white wooden posts. ■ p' \.\ 1 PI 84' ' i ■n • ill. 220 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. From a hill we looked down upon a beautiful view. Nelson lay intersected by roads, and interspersed with trees. All the colours of autumn shone around — vivid green plots framed in by tall poplars — vineyards with yellow foliage — bright red bushes, elms, beeches, willows, orange-leaved shrubs — avenues of brilliant transparent green — patches of ground piled up with stacks of hop-poles like muskets — orchards, gardens, fields, bush, scrub, flax, and fern. The red berries of the sweetbriar mixed with the yellow blossoms of the broom. In a meadow a party of youths, in coloured caps, were tussling at football. I ittle singing streams, crossed by hand-rail bridges, ran into gaps of hawthorn hedges ; larks, which are numerous in the province, carolled above us. The ground was densely strewn with a carpet of leaves, which fell in a golden shower from the elms. Blue-roofed cottages were perched on the hill-slopes, with a wealth of flowers in front of them, like baits for more sunshine. The river Matai flowed at our feet, dazzling with broken light, as if it had washed down diamonds and silted them up in the channel. No mere inventory of charms, how- ever, can justly describe the bright picture. Beyond the town lay the smooth harbour, lined by the wonderful boulder bank, the straight regularity of which was relieved by the tower of the lighthouse — then farther off", the waters of Blind Bay, a sheet of blazing light. As background stood the first rising of the mighty Alps that occupy the interior of the South Island — mountains stretching majestically through a purple mist, as far as we could see, with Mount Arthur as the loftiest peak, 8000 feet high. The weather was ecstatic the whole time we were in Nelson. " This is a delicious climate you have here," said we to a Scotchman — " have you had many days of fine weather lately?" "Ou aye," said V,e, "it's been real gude for the last twa year ! " While here we received from the pilot of the harbour, a Scotchman, every possible attention. In the morn- ings he took us across the harbour to the boulder bank, where we had enjoyable bathing. Our friend also arrange(i a pic-nic on Rabbit Island, a mile or two out in the bay, beyond the breakwater. A boat was supplied with a cask of provisions, a basket of fruit, and a filter of fresh water. After a tedious row against tide we landed on the island — a sandy, scrub-grown spot, fit residence for a Crusoe, but not very promising for a pleasure party. However, on groping our way through the manuka, we came to a place where bits of burnt stick, ^ I ^ '^ I lelson. to a ;ather le last .f the Imorn- Iwhere )ic-nic id the Ions, a IS row Igrown for a th the stick, A Wreck in Blind Bay. 221 improptu fire-grates, ashes, and bottles, showed that others had been before us. We lit a nre and made tea, while a bounteous " spread " of good things was laid out by our kind entertainer. When we had finished, we wandered about the island, disturb- ing stray rabbits, and enjoying the sea view. This bay is sometimes a roaring sea, as we heard from the lips of the pilot. Scene : A fully-laden brig riding at anchor. Exit captain and crew to the shore. Fierce gale begins to blow — vessel drags from her moorings — pilot and men put off to the rescue — go on board — crash ! the vessel rends herself on a rock. Exit right and left the crew of the pilot boat. Dismay ! — the boat is inextricably fastened to the brig, which is settling fast by the head. " Have any of us knives?" '*No." "Then we are all gone men." Pilot dashes his hand into his pocket — " Ha! here's an old blade." Quickly the rope is sawed through. " Hurrah ! we're saved ! " Almost too late ! One of the crew, not quick enough to escape, is whirled down into the bowels of the sea, reappears from a great depth, and is dragged half- drowned into the boat, which has pushed off as the vessel sinks. Drop scene. As finale to this spasm of a drama, the pilot showed us the valuable knife, which he had found and mechani- cally sharpened only the day before the wreck. We went to see the races here, four miles out. The attend- ant . was not large, but the people were commendably orderly, and gambling unknown. We saw an exciting steeplechase " over three miles of good hunting-country." The spectators galloped their horses over hill and down dale after the jockeys, jumping fences and ditches in the most reckless manner. The site of the course was worth the journey to see — homestead and field, river and wood, rising ground and plain, dark 'green hill and shaded hollow, stretching away to a faint, far upland, behind which, through a horizon of mist, rose the snow-sprinkled Alpine ranges. I am afraid that several times we missed an interesting race looking at the entrancing prospect. The population of Nelson province is 22,566. Its resources are exhaustless. Thanks to the fertile valleys, however, farming is very profitable. Sheep are reared on the rich grasnes of the hills. Valuable timber is found on the ranges. The genial climate encourages all fruits and flowers. Then the Nelson people have awakened to the fact that a fortune lies at their doors — a regular mountain of iron, the Para Para, with thousands of tons of valuable ore lying ready for the furnace. We met a decent young Scotsman, an ironworker, who said he 1 \\ H '' ^' i' i 1 |: : :rt W- 222 Kennedy's Colonial Travel. had been in the colonies four years — had sailed first to Mel- bourne, but found it too hot to work at a blast-furnace there — came to Nelson, and, as foreman, was superintending the moulding at an ironfoundry for J^^ a week — was a teetotaler and well off — paid sixteen shillings per week for his house, and 3d. to 6d. per pound for his beef — thought himself the contented man — and was the first who smelted the Para Para ore. To persons wishing a retired life, or the thorough teaching of their children, this province offers many advan- tages. Nelson was the first place in New Zealand that brought out a system of popular education. '^k^ \k III \\\ f'i Iff m CHAPTER XVII. iiti i, fi i TARANAKI — MOUNT EGMONT THE Cl'lY OF AUCKLAND — THE THAMES GOLD FIELD A >L\<)RI DEUAUCH. After seven performances in the pretty town of Nelson, we left for Auckland. The steamer sailed at eleven o'clock at night. Having secured our bertlis, the next thing was to se- cure sleep, but a crowd of men in the saloon banished that idea — talking incessantly of the wheat crop, and the present and prospective prices of wool — playing cards all the while and chinking the stakes in an ostentatious way. We did not close our eyes till an early hour. In the morning high land was seen on the horizon — Cape Egmont, the principal promontory on the west coast of the North Island. Slo^vly we crept u[) towards it, till at last the base of Mount Egmont came in sight. The summit was in- visible owing to heavy overhanging clouds. The vegetation on shore was of the densest and richest description, ^\'e rounded the cape, a line of cliffs one hundred feet high — passed through a group of outstanding rocks like a marine Stonehenge, and dropped anchor in the roadstead of Taranaki, about half-a-mile from the shore. Through a powerful glass we viewed the town, which was prettily situated, sloping up from the water's edge, with the houses standing amongst trees, luxuriant bush in the rear, and the lower slopes of Egmont as a further background. The beach was dark-coloured with tons u])on tons of iron-sand. In the centre of the town rose a llat-toi)ped hill, called Marsland, the summit crowned with a fortified stockade enclosing a group of buildings. This was the shelter for the settlers during the Maori war some ten years ago, but is now transformed into Immigration Barracks. Taranaki is to a great extent cut off from the world. The surf rolls heavily on the beach. There is sometimes great risk in landing, and occasionally the steam- boats have to pass without calling in. This detracts from the place as a settlement. Mount Egmont was first sighted by Tasman, the Dutch nil! M 224 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. ' % I ! voyager, in December of 1642. In 1772 Captain Cook arrived and named the mountain after the Earl of Egmont. Then whalers came and went about here for a period of sixty years. The Maories at this time were of the most depraved nature. We hear ghoul-like stories of their cruel wars, sometimes bordering on the grotesque — how the introduction of fire-arms produced fierce struggles between the various tribes — how thousands of the Taranaki natives were slain and many taken cap- tive — how a Maori tribe crucified a hostile chief on the gateway of his "pah," and ate up some hundreds of his people — how twelve sailors of a whaling-ship were killed in a quarrel with the natives, and how the Maories attacked the vessel itself, plundering it of a large cargo of . ^p, which they ate ravenously with most disastrous effects! In 1841 the ships arrived with the immigrants for the settlement of New Plymouth, or Taran- aki — principally Cornishmen, and all of so good character that for many years they could not raise a criminal amongst them. From all accounts they seem to have been a good- hearted, industrious people, proud of their new home — even raising a stirring song at their farmers' clubs in praise of their grand mountain, the gist being that no matter what troubles, trials, or difficulties arose, the colonists should one and all keep up their hearts, for " Old Egmont crowned the land!" All the troubles of the native war were concentrated here, taking their rise in that great source of Maori dispute to this day — the question as to the real ownership of land. A tract of country, the Waitara Block, was bought from a native called Taylor, to whom it undoubtedly belonged. But the chief of the tribe denied the right to sell it ; and when the surveyors came, the native women quietly drove them away. The Government threatened the Maories that if more resistance was offered, the offenders would be fired upon. The next occasion saw the surveyors' chain hacked in two. On Sunday the 4th of March i860, this latest and fiercest of the Maori wars com- menced. In February of 1861 the battle of Huirangi took place, in which the natives lost thirty-six men. Not long after, in a fight near the town, 1700 English soldiers were panic- stricken by a volley from forty-one Maories. Another Preston- pans ! General Cameron carried the campaign into the Waikato district, where the instigators of the Taranaki tribe dwelt, and where some of the most terrible struggles took place between the natives and the troops. Then there sprang up in Taranaki a new Maori religion, the " Pai reyoYS The :e was :asion corn- took after, )anic- leston- the tribe took there "Pai Mount Egviont. 22$ Marire," the followers of which were called Hau-Haus (How- Hows), from the barking sound they made during their wild devotions. The head of an Knglisli captain, who had perished in an encounter, was cut off and embalmed, and an insane native flourished it as the oracle of the new faith. This belief was a mixture of Papistry, Maori superstition, Biblical facts, and gibberish, which they chanted round their Niu or sacred pole. Any lingering spark of Christianity was quenched — the Maories who embraced this religion swept back at once into cannibalism and debauchery, drinking the blood and swallowing the eyes of their enemies. This religion had great influence for many years, and still exists in a subdued form amongst the natives. We met a number of Hau-Haus near x\uckland. The Taranaki natives never acknowledged defeat, but were gradually driven off the disi)uted territory. The war ended in 1S65, the English troops being assisted greatly by the colonial volunteers, who were more expert in pah-capturing than their brother redcoats. Such was the war as waged under the shadow of Mount Egmont. Were we never to sec this great peak ? The sluggish clouds shifted uneasily on tlie mountain's side, but foiled to rise. From the shore there came, undulating over the heavy rollers, a large w'hite surf-boat, rowed by two or three rough-looking fellows with unwieldy oars, followed by a smaller boat containing a sample of the Taranaki folks, not omitting our interesting acquaintances the ISIaories. Several native women were on board the steamer, and when some female friends came up the gangway, they rul)bed noses in a leisurely manner, accomi)anied by a long, j)laintive, nasal wail. Probably only a few days had elapsed between this meeting and the last, but the tone of their noses had a wealth of sentiment : — " Oh, oh ! what weary, weary years have groaned tlieir dreary length along since we Inst met; and to see you now, when we had gi\-en up all hope — ah, ah, ah ! " While we were watching the boat, the wind had blown the clouds oft' Mount Egmont. When we looked round, the grand peak stood before us, far higher in the sky than where our e)es had been fixed, and seeming to have no connection with the earth's surface. It looked to us like a mirage-mountain, so lofty, so isolated, so removed was it from the detracting influences of other heights. Mount Egmont is 8270 feet high, an extinct volcano, and the \\\o>,\. perfect cone in New Zealand. A long black brmd of cloud cut it in half, making a kind of double mountain- -the lower slope's shadowed $ i! 1 t ■ ■< . i^,|l 1 226 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. by the cloud, the summit catching the full rays of the sun, and of a light tawny brown colour, with downward dark lines representing rifts in the mountain-side. It came to a very sharp point, or double-lipped crater, containing a blob of snow, some of which had trickled out in small drifts at the narrow mouth of the peak. We had seen a mountain for the first time. The massive ranges of Lake Wakatip had a j)rolonged grandeur, but not the height or symmetry of Egmont. The steamer left Taranaki late in the afternoon. The dividing belt of cloud vanished, and left the full contour of the mountain displayed. The sun set, the strip of the town faded into the rising mists, and Mount Egmont, now a shadowy mass, was in time swallowed up in the darkness. In the morning we neared the Manukau Heads, the entrance to the western harbour of Auckland, but as the tidal signals were against us, we dropped anchor outside. At breakfast there arose a discussion about the Maories, founded upon the inci- dents of the i)receding day, one dark-whiskered Scotsman being exceedingly savage in his attacks on the native race. " 'Od," said he, " they should a' be hounded into a i)iece o' grund just big enough to hold them, and let us white folks have whatever land we want — set them up, the broon beggars ! " This man was only one of a large number in the North Island, who look upon the natives as incumbrances to be got rid of as soon as possible. This class is not in the majority, for most people wish to do the Maories justice. Moreover, during the past few years this party has decreased. The latest, and let us hope the last native war, if it resulted in nothing else, at any rate enabled the Maories to assert themselves, like the Scots of old under the invasions of the Edwards, and earn from both Government and people a great deal more respect and consid- eration. Sitting next me at table was a man who laid pretence to extraordinary powers of physiology. " Watch," he whispered — '* watch that long row of persons in front of us — observe their various temperaments — I'll tell you who'll take tea and who'll take coffee — ^just from the party's looks, you know." The steward commenced his (questioning. " Now," said the physi- ologist, " examine carefully that man immediately opposite — he's a tea-man, he's sure to take tea — his (]uick nervous eyes, his fidgety manner, his hair too — watch !" " Tea or coffee, sir ? " said the steward. " Coffee ! " cried the man, •'* asked it hours ago — coffee, coffee, coffee ! " I hardly ventured to look at my A Kauri Forest. 227 neighbour after this, though the perturbed state of his feelings was only shown by the harsh staccato manner in which he buttered his toast. During the detention here, the time was spent in angling. Two or three "schnapper" were brought on board. Then a " dog-fish," like a blind ])uppy about the head, and its body something of the conger-eel in shape — a dry, rough-skinned fish, with no eyes visible save when you forced open its stiff eye-lids — writhing like a snake when landed on deck, slowly and painfully twisting its tail into its mouth at every turn. Afterwards a most lovely creature was hauled up — the gurnard — an extjuisite fairy fish, about thirteen inches long. It had a dullish red body, dotted with vivid red spots. On each side of its head was a large delicate fin, or wing, coloured dark green, rimmed with bright blue, and in the centre a neat pansy mark, while underneath its gills were a bunch of trem- bling crimson feelers. A pail of salt water was brought, and the butterfly-fish secured for general inspection, amid innumerable " ahs ! " and " ohs ! " and craning of necks. Lastly, a young man dropping his line over the stern, felt a most powerful bite at the hook, and with a tug sufficient to have raised a small whale, he exposed to view a couple of red herring ! The line had been caught, and the dried fish attached, by some wags at the port-holes below. The bewilderment of the angler pro- voked general mirth, the laughter even extending to a stiff old gentleman who was on his way to be cured of rheumatism at the Hot Springs of Rotomahana. By this time the tide-signals were in our favour. While we were sailing up the Manukau Harbour, there was pointed out to us a genuine kauri forest. As a general rule, whenever you hear the word "kauri" (kowree) mentioned in these parts, you are to listen with the greatest i)ossible respect, for what the "brave old oak" is to the Englishman, what the big trees of Yosemite are to the Californian, the kauri tree is to the man of Auckland. The grandest of all New Zealand trees, it is frequently 200 feet high and twelve feet in diameter. Kauri is found chiefly in the tapering northern extremity of this North Island, is unknown south of Auckland, and is now dying out very fast, all attempts to plant the young kauri having been so far failures. The grand old giant will one day disap[)ear. We landed at Onehunga, a tasteful-looking village at the head of the harbour, and originally a settlement of military pen- sioners from the old country, several of whom still live about the place. It may be called a distant suburb of Auckland, and Iv ■•\ ■ ' \ \\ : -v 228 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. t the Manukau itself the suburban harbour of that city. The island at this point is only eight miles in breadth. Auckland is built on the shores of the Waitemata Harbour, on the east coast, and connected by a short railway with Onehunga and the other harbour on the west side of the island, so that the city is wonderfully well off for water communication. A branch of the Manukau runs to within three-quarters of a mile of a river flowing into the Waitemata, and a canal may in the future con- nect the two important harbours. As a train was not to start for. some very long time, we engaged a waggonette to take us into town. The drive was very enjoyable, chiefly because the landscape was of a totally new character — the grass of an emerald greenness, and the soil a dullish pink. Neat private houses frequently appeared, encircled by fine gardens, very few of them without the graceful cabbage-tree. By-and-by, we came in sight of the outskirts of the city, and at length reached the steep descent of Upper Queen Street, down which we rattled to our hotel. Auckland has the best business site of any town in New Zealand. Queen Street, the principal street, one mile in length, glides down till it merges imperceptibly into the long wharf that stretches from the shore. The Waitemata harbour is large and well land-locked. The triple-peaked Rangitoto, an extinct volcano, with several other islands to the eastward, relieve what there is of monotony in the country round, but they are almost too distant. The country about here is volcanic, and saved from being commonplace by the afore-mentioned emerald grass, and the strange pink soil. The streets are paved with lava stone, the side-walks strewn with scoria, or volcanic ash, which crunches beneath your feet. Mount Eden forms part of the background to Auckland. It is a flat-topped, verdant volcanic hill. Its slopes are ridged with terraces, the remains of Maori earthworks thrown up during old tribal wars. Each successive embankment bears witness to a defence and a retreat, the unlucky besieged having step by step been driven over the summit. Cartloads of Maori bones, the remnants of Maori feasts, have been dug out of Mount Eden — in reference to which a man gravely assured us that these were being secretly converted into flour, and that we in turn would unwittingly be committing cannibalism under a milder form ! Though the top of the hill looks flat, yet on climbing up you find yourself on the edge of a very symmetrical crater, like a smooth inverted cone. From the summit you ;n we Auckland, 2J9 command an extensive prospect. Your eyes compass the neck of land separating the two oceans — you see the many gems of islands studding the Waitemata Harbour, and the larger islands, the Great and Little Barriers, standing to seaward as advanced guards of the approach to Auckland — you can faintly distinguish the busy Thames gold field, thirty-five miles distant — you see a great rugged i)eninsula stretching north, and forming the Coromandel Gulf; while to the south, amid a green country fading into blueness, and extending to a farther cloudland of mountains that seem moulded in mist, you behold the ever- famous valley of the Waikato, the hot-bed of the Maori war. Auckland, as we first saw it, under inclement weather, did not prepossess us in its favour. Under sunnier skies we subsequently found a great deal of charm in the harl)our. But the architecture of the city was inferior to what we had expected, though we say this with recollection of some very commanding buildings in Queen Street. However, several destructive fires have lately opened the way for better buildings. Shortly before we arrived there took place the fourth fire within a radius of a quarter of a mile during the last eighteen months. The destruction of the Government oftices gave the people an opportunity to boast about the magnitude of their calamity, though the Americans laughed at their " one-horse fire " and said, " You mean well, Auck., but you can't conflagrate worth a cent!" Going down Queen Street, we caught sight of one of several gutted-out blocks. Children were sprawling amongst the ruins, and a poor man was grubbing about the rubbish with a stick. An orchard at the back had been " devoured " — a melancholy sight — the trees standing charred and bare, mossed over with soot instead of nature's verdure, withered by a swift fiery autumn. We were amused at the rai)idity with which temporary buildings were put up. One day a sheet of fire- rusted iron, on which a placard had stated that " Brown would shortly open," was removed, and carpenters were hammering away at the timbers of a new wooden shop. Next day the corrugated iron was being nailed on — the day following, the premises were finished — and on the fourth day the place was stocked with groceries, while a man was engaged on the top of a ladder painting the new sign. Several of these burnt-out shops had quite recently been re-opened, one wag, who kept an eating-house, advertising that " like a phcenix he had risen from his hashes ! " The population of Auckland city, inclusive of the suburbs, % ,«'t I: r! 230 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. is 21,803, composed largely of English and Irish. The Papal and publican elements are strong. "Sandy "is not so fully represented as he ought to be, though I do not drag this for- ward as a cause of Auckland's backwardness ! Business seemed only moderately prosperous. The labour market was not particularly lively, though many kinds of persons were advertised for — among others, female servants, nurse-girls, men-cooks, an elderly female cook for one of the suburbs, and above all, a lady-pianist for Fiji ! — while, on the other hand, a young man desired "a situation as warehouseman, groom, gardener, farm-labourer, or any other employment ! " Auck- land is behind the other important provinces in prosperity. Wages are higher both in Otago and Canterbury than here. There is a good deal of poverty in the city proper. Strongly contrasting with this lower stratum of society is the very pro- nounced aristocracy that rules in Auckland. Within a few days, a complimentary ball was given to the Governor by the citizens— then a ball by the (Governor's servants to the shop- keepers of Auckland — then a ball by the shopkeei)ers to the Governor's servants. No meeting is complete without the patronage of vice-royalty, or some other big man. • As usual we met one or two Scotch folks. First, a man who had done well in the world, yet who grumbled sorely. " Man," said he, " this colony is no fit for a Scotsman to live in." '' How's that ? " we inc^uired. " Weel, the fac' is," said he, " I canna get my parritch made to please me !" We received a letter from old Mrs Nicol, mother of the late Robert Nicol, the celebrated poet of Perth. She is living 100 miles from Auck- land, at Alexandra, in the Waikato district, surrounded by her great-grandchildren— seemingly a hale and hearty old lady, though she must be far advanced in years. We spent an evening at the house of an old Scotch lady, a widow, who had arrived at Auckland in 1841. As she truly said, " What times I've seen ! " Her husband and she were tempted to emigrate by the representations of the Great Manukau Company, formed to promote settlement in Auckland. When the vessel left Greenock the captain was drunk, and the passengers strove to reach the Cove of Cork. They fell in with a small brig arriving from Sierra Leone. The skipper of this vessel saved the emigrant ship from total wreck, and afterwards took full command. Then the captain thought he would show off the large ship to his old acquaintances at Sierra Leone. As there were only three ladies in the colony at the time, the emigrants in." ,"I ed a I, the .uck- )y her lady, ; an had Itimes igrate [rmed 1 left itrove brig saved full "the Ithere Irants A Successful Euiigraut. 231 were received with acclamation. IJalls and suppers were given them — they were feted at the Government House, dancing to the stirring united strains of the bagi)ipes and the fiddle — the passengers all this time being kept at a fine hotel. At last the captain, in fear lest he should lose by matrimony some of the fairer portion of his charge, weighed anchor and sailed. By the time they reached the Cape of (iood Hope, the ship had to call in for provisions, and a few weeks were sj^ent here. Then they came by degrees to Melbourne, where they stayed five weeks more — took a cargo to Hobart Town, where they remained best part of a month — reaching Auckland at last to find that the Great Manukau Company had broken up. This influential man had died, this person had failed, this one had absconded. Many of the immigrants got nothing for their outlay. The old lady and her husband, who were to have entered into posses- sion of ^300 worth of land, only received ^80 in scrip. The ship, too, had been eleven months on the voyage, leaving in November 1840, and arriving October 1841. Contrast this with a steamer which has recently made the voyage in forty-two days. At this old lady's house we met a young man, who detailed his colonial experiences. For five years he had worked in a Glasgow counting-house ; but thinking to make a bold stroke for independence, he came out to New Zealand. At first he had to work hard in the bush and wear rough clothes, receiving, as farm-labourer, five shillings a week for the first year, ten shillings a week for the second, and fifteen shil- lings for the third. Then his wages rose to J^\ a week for three years, at the end of which time he had saved ;^i3o. He bought 100 acres of land, took a wife, and was now very com- fortable. He was a confirmed teetotaler, and detailed the blight of intemperance which had latterly spread over the settlement where he lived. It was a ([uiet hamlet till the opening of a " hotel " or grog-shop put an end to all peace. Men became drunk that never were drunk before. Intoxicated Maories staggered through the village — many of the i)Oor fellows lay helpless by the roadside. It was a pitiable tale. Everywhere about Auckland we saw Maories — not a few here and there, but crowds of them — some in the highest degree of respectability, and some in absolute primitiveness. The men were generally dressed in English clothes, with the addition, however, of black felt hats ornamented by straight pheasants' feathers, which gave an Alpine appearance to the head. Others, again, wore chimney-pot hats, which did not W K ' r, I 5 m •f S ! 232 Kennedy s Colonial Travel. harmonise in the least with the tattooed faces beneath. The native who had not risen to the supposed dignity of a full suit appeared in a Maori kilt — a mat tied round his waist, giving free play to his bare legs and feet — with a gay-coloured blanket thrown loosely over the shoulders. The women were in many cases exceedingly showy. A few had on native shawls and mats, with their hair in a most ludicrous stp *' gigantic bushy friz/,, and sticking out from the head like .irge-sized mop. Once we saw a fashionable Maori lady, \\\\\\ i)arasol, flowery bonnet, high-heeled boots, and long train, sweeping her silks down Queen Street. On the o[)i)osite ])avement .squatted another Maori woman — s(|ualid, wrajjjjcd up in a shabby blanket, and looking in the dei)th of poverty ; but, in a burst of friendliness, the Silk Dress hurriedly crossed the street and saluted the IJlanket, shaking hands with her and rubbing noses in the most affectionate manner. Another time a native woman, who would not have been distinguished on the thronged i)ave- ment of Princes Street, Tldinburgh, save by her brown face, went in a stately way to a cab-stand, hailed a driver with her parasol, gave the man her address, ste[)pe(l loftily into the vehicle, and sank back into the recjsses of the cp' We were astonished at all this. During our whole stay in kland we could not help contrasting the native of New Ze.uand with the aboriginal of Australia. The Australian black is an uncouth fellow, a loafer round country hotels, a grinning play- thing for passing strang(;rs, a kind of human tree soon to be rooted out. But the New Zealand savage is by far superior, physically and mentally, to the Australian aboriginal. Walking down Queen Street, we looked into a photographer's window at a large case filled with ])ictures of Maori women. While pointing out one or two as being more than usually ugly, we suddenly felt a great pressing behind us, a hard breathing, and an odour of stale tobacco. Sciueezing round, we came cheek to cheek with the brown realities of the i)hotographs ! At the foot of the street we reached the wharf, 1700 feet long, which stretches into the harbour. Amongst warehouses, small shipping-offices, and eating-houses for sailors, were frequent congregations of Maories. They were idling about, with flax- baskets in their hands, and had evidently arrived by steamer from the country districts. Heaps of newly-landed vegetables lay on the wharf, watched over by native female eyes. One Maori woman sat on the ground, with a ring of cabbages round her, as if it were an incantation-circle of skulls, and she a T A Queer Hotel. 233 ninrket-grirdcning witch. A goodly number of vessels lay at the wharf — among others, the celebrated craft " P. C. E.," which brought the prisoner Rochefort and confreres from New Caledonia to Sidney. This wharf is the promenade of the townsfolks on Sunday afternoons. Hotel accommodation, good or bad as the case may be, has a great deal to do with one's liking or disliking of a town. The house where we put up was not the cleanest or most comfort- able we hatl ever seen. The j)residing genius of the jjlace was an old fossil waiter, whose sole business appeared to be the drawing of corks in the most out-of-the-way of corners. His attendant imjjs were two or three loafmg, slovenly servant girls, who were constantly engaged eating bread and jam surrepti- tiously behind ])arlour and bedroom doors, and who always answered the call of the old-world waiter with the sound as of a well-crammed mouth. The domestics were always being changed too, and during our stay there were several dynasties of girls. 'J'he housekeei)er was a young damsel, whose face in the morning was colourless and soapy, her hair hung down to her waist, while she wore a common \)v'mi dress and a very dirty apron— later, -he appeared in black, with her hair all padded up and combcl — in the afternoon a ribbon would creep round the chignon, ; d colour would settle on the cheeks — at night, aha ! she came > -rth in i)lue silk dress and dark velvet jacket, with lace collar, lace cuffs, a high convolution on the top of her head, and an immense i)ink bow over her ear. By these gradual transformations she reached the butterfly climax, but each morning at breakfast she would sink once more into the grub state. We dined in a room where there was a kind of lift, made out of an old flue. The firci)lace had folding doors, like a cupboard, and, when these were oi)ened, you would behold your roast coming up on a tray, which was no sooner removed than, perhaps, a j^late of cr.bbage would fly uj) the chimney to a corresponding fireplace on the floor above, while at the same time the sepulchral voice of the waiter would very likely be heard calling down for one of his unkempt si)rites. It was a most wonderful hotel ! One Sunday there was a terrible storm. A gale blew from morning till night. The rain came with blinding shower. A wearisome succession of squalls soon made us all anxious to retire to rest. During the night I awoke and found that through leakage of rain and strength of wind, the paper on the ceiling and walls had come down and reduced the size of my 1 11 ! J ■I ;i 1 i \ 1 1 ' i 1 ' ! ' i' V, 1 H ^ i-:: 1 ■ ! ■ iii 534 Kennedy s Colonial Travel.