FOOTNOTES:[12]The ordinary price of good gold is 3l.19s.6d.the ounce. In the early days of gold-digging, the gold was never cleaned, but bought right off at a low price, 2l.15s.or 2l.17s.6d.an ounce; the bankers thus often realizing immense profits.
[12]The ordinary price of good gold is 3l.19s.6d.the ounce. In the early days of gold-digging, the gold was never cleaned, but bought right off at a low price, 2l.15s.or 2l.17s.6d.an ounce; the bankers thus often realizing immense profits.
[12]The ordinary price of good gold is 3l.19s.6d.the ounce. In the early days of gold-digging, the gold was never cleaned, but bought right off at a low price, 2l.15s.or 2l.17s.6d.an ounce; the bankers thus often realizing immense profits.
Gold-rushing—Diggers' Camp at Havelock—Murder of Lopez—Pursuit and Capture of the Murderer—The Thieves Hunted from the Camp—Death of the Murderer—The Police—Attempted Robbery of the Collingwood Bank—Another supposed Robbery—"Stop Thief!"—Smart use of the Telegraph.
In the times of the early rushes to the gold-fields there was, as might be expected, a good deal of disorder and lawlessness. When the rumour of a new gold-field went abroad, its richness was, as usual, exaggerated in proportion to the distance it travelled; and men of all classes rushed from far and near to the new diggings. Melbourne was half emptied of its labouring population; sailors deserted their ships; shepherds left their flocks, and stockmen their cattle; and, worst of all, there also came pouring into Victoria the looser part of the convict population of the adjoining colonies. These all flocked to the last discovered field, which was invariably reputed the richest that had yet been discovered.
Money was rapidly made by some where gold was found in any abundance; but when the soil proved comparativelypoor, the crowd soon dispersed in search of other diggings. A population so suddenly drawn together by the fierce love of gain, and containing so large an admixture of the desperado element, could scarcely be expected to be very orderly. Yet it is astonishing how soon, after the first rush was over, the camp would settle down into a state of comparative order and peaceableness. For it was always the interest of the majority to put down plundering and disorder. Their first concern was for the security of their lives, and their next for the security of the gold they were able to scrape together.
When the lawless men about a camp were numerous, and robberies became frequent, the diggers would suddenly extemporise a police, rout out the thieves, and drive them perforce from the camp. I may illustrate this early state of things by what occurred at Havelock, a place about seven miles from Majorca. The gully there was "rushed" about nine years since, when some twenty thousand diggers were drawn together, with even more than the usual proportion of grog-shanty keepers, loafers, thieves, and low men and women of every description. In fact, the very scum of the roving population of the colony seems to have accumulated in the camp; and crime upon crime was committed, until at length an affair occurred, more dreadful and outrageous than anything that had preceded it, which thoroughly roused the digger population, and a rising took place, which ended in their hunting the whole of the thieves and scoundrels into the bush.
The affair has been related to me by three of the persons who were themselves actors in it, and it is briefly as follows:—At the corner of one of the main thoroughfares of the camp, composed of canvas tents and wooden stores, there stood an extemporized restaurant, kept by a Spaniard named Lopez. A few yards from his place was a store occupied by a Mr. S——, now a storekeeper in Majorca, and a customer at our bank. Opposite to S——'s store stood a tent, the occupants of which were known to be among the most lawless ruffians in the camp. S—— had seen the men more than once watching his store, and he had formed the conviction that they meant at some convenient opportunity to rob him, so he never slept without a loaded revolver under his pillow. One night in particular he was very anxious. The men stood about at the front of his store near closing time, suspiciously eyeing his premises, as he thought. So he put a bold face on, came to the door near where they were standing, discharged his pistol in the air—a regular custom in the diggings at night—reloaded, entered his store, and bolted himself in. He went to bed at about ten o'clock, and lay awake listening, for he could not sleep. It was not very long before he heard some person's steps close by his hut, and a muttering of smothered voices. The steps passed on; and then; after the lapse of about ten minutes, he heard a shot—a scream—and hurried footsteps running close past his hut. He lay in bed, determined not to go out, as he feared that this was only aruseon the part of the thieves to inducehim to open his door. But soon he heard shouts outside, as of persons in pursuit of some one, and jumping out of bed, he ran out half dressed and joined in the chase.
Now, this is what had happened during the ten minutes that he had lain in bed listening. The thieves had stolen past his store, as he had heard them, and gone forward to the restaurant kept by the Spaniard. They looked into the bar, and through the chinks of the wood they saw Lopez counting over the money he had taken during the day. The bar was closed, but the men knocked at the door for admission. Lopez asked what they wanted; the reply was that they wished for admission to have a drink. After some demur, Lopez at last opened the door, and the men entered. Nobblers were ordered, and while Lopez was reaching for a bottle, one of the thieves, named Brooke, made a grab at the money lying in the open drawer. The landlord saw his hand, and instantly snatching up a large Spanish knife which lay behind the counter, he made a lunge at Brooke, and so fiercely did he strike that the knife ripped up the man's abdomen. With a yell of rage, Brooke drew his revolver, instantly shot Lopez through the head, and he fell dead without a groan.
Meanwhile the other thieves had fled; and now Brooke himself, holding his wound together with his hand, ran out of the house, through the street of tents, across the lead, and into the bush. But the hue and cry had been raised; the diggers bundled out of theirtents, and before the murderer had reached the cover of the bush, already a dozen men were on his track. It was full moon, and they could see him clearly, holding on his way, avoiding the crab-holes, and running at a good speed notwithstanding his fearful wound. Among the foremost of the pursuers were a trooper and an active little fellow who is now living in Majorca. They got nearer and nearer to Brooke, who turned from time to time to watch their advance. The trooper was gaining upon him fast; but when within about fifteen yards of him Brooke turned, took aim with his revolver, and deliberately fired. The aim was too true: the trooper fell dead, shot right through the heart. Brooke turned to fly immediately he had fired his shot, but the root of a tree behind him tripped him up, and the little man who followed close behind the trooper was upon him in an instant, with his knee upon his body holding him down. Brooke managed to turn himself half round, presented his revolver at his captor, and fired. The cap snapped on the nipple! My friend says he will never forget the look the wretch gave him when his pistol missed fire. A few minutes—long, long minutes—passed, and at length help arrived and the murderer was secured. The number shortly increased to a crowd of angry diggers. At first they wished to hang Brooke at once upon the nearest tree; but moderate counsels prevailed, and at last they agreed to take him into Havelock and send for a doctor.
When the crowd got back to Havelock their fury broke out. They determined to level the thieves'tents and the grog-shanties that had harboured them. What a wild scene it must have been! Two or three thousand men pulling down huts and tents, smashing crockery and furniture, ripping up beds, and levelling the roosts of infamy to the ground. When Dr. Laidman, the doctor sent for from Maryborough, arrived to attend the dying man, he saw a cloud of "white things" in the air, and could not make out what they were. They turned out to be the feathers of the numerous feather-beds, which the diggers had torn to pieces, that were flying about. The diggers' blood was fairly up, and they were determined to make "a clean job of it" before they had done. And not only did they thoroughly root out and destroy all the thieves' dens and low grog-shops and places of ill-fame, but they literally hunted the owners and occupants of them right out into the bush.
I must now tell you of the murderer's end. He was taken to the rude theatre of the place, and laid down upon the stage, with his two victims beside him—the dead Lopez on one side and the dead trooper on the other. When the doctor arrived, he examined Brooke, and told him he would try to keep him alive, so that justice might be done. And the doctor did his best. But the Spaniard's wound had been terrible and deadly. Brooke died in about half an hour from the time of the doctor's arrival The murderer remained impenitent to the last, and opened his mouth only once to utter an oath. Such was the horrible ending of this digger's tragedy.
Cases such as this are, however, of rare occurrence. So soon as a digging becomes established, a regular police is employed to ensure order, and local self-government soon follows. We had often occasion to ride over to Maryborough, taking with us gold; but though we were well known in the place, and our errand might be surmised, we were never molested, nor, indeed, entertained the slightest apprehension of danger. It is true that in the bank we usually had a loaded revolver lying in the drawer ready at hand, in case it should be needed; but we had never occasion to use it.
Some years ago, however, an actual attempt was openly made to rob a bank in Collingwood, a suburb of Melbourne, which was very gallantly resisted. The bank stood in a well-frequented part of the town, where people were constantly passing to and fro. One day two men entered it during office hours. One of them deliberately bolted the door, and the other marched up to the counter and presented a pistol at the head of the accountant who stood behind it. Nothing daunted, the young man at once vaulted over the counter, calling loudly to the manager for help, and collared the ruffian, whose pistol went off as he went down. The manager rushed out from his room, and tackled the other fellow. Both the robbers were strong, powerful men, but they fought without the courage of honesty. The struggle was long and desperate, until at last assistance came, and both were secured. A presentation of plate was made to the two officials who had socourageously done their duty, and they are still in the service of the same bank.
In direct contrast to this case, I may mention a rather mysterious circumstance which occurred at an up-country bank, situated in a quartz-mining district. I must first explain that the bank building is situated in a street, with houses on both sides, and that any noise in it would readily be heard by the neighbours. One young fellow only was in charge of the place. The manager of a neighbouring branch called weekly for the surplus cash and the gold bought during the week. The youth in charge suddenly reported one day that he had been "stuck up," as the colonial phrase is for being robbed. He said that one night, as he was going into the bank, where he slept—in fact just as he was putting the key into the lock—a man came up to him, and, clapping a pistol to his head, demanded the key of the safe. He gave it him, showed him where the gold and notes were kept, and, in fact, enabled the robber to make up a decent "swag." The man, whoever he was, got away with all the money. The bank thought it their duty to proceed against the clerk himself for appropriating the money. But the proof was insufficient, and the verdict brought in was "Not guilty."
We were one day somewhat alarmed at Majorca by a letter received from our manager at Maryborough, informing us that a great many bad characters were known to be abroad and at work—and cautioning us to be particularly upon our guard. We were directedto discharge our firearms frequently and keep them in good order, so that in case of need they should not miss fire. We were also to give due notice when we required notes from Maryborough, so that the messenger appointed to bring them over should be accompanied by a complete escort,i.e., a mounted trooper. All this was very alarming, and we prepared for events accordingly.
A few nights after, as we were sitting under the manse verandah, we heard a loud cry of "Stop thief!" The robbers, then, were already in the township! We jumped up at once, looked round the corner of the house, and saw two men running off as fast as they could, followed at some distance by another man shouting frantically, "Stop thief!" We immediately started in pursuit of the supposed thieves. We soon came up with the man who had been robbed, and whom we found swearing in a most dreadful way. This we were very much astonished at, as we recognised in him one of the most pious Wesleyans in the township. But we soon shot ahead of him, and gradually came up with the thieves, whom we at first supposed to be Chinamen. As we were close upon them, they suddenly stopped, turned round, and burst out laughing! Surely there must be some mistake! We recognised in the "thieves" the son of the old gentleman whom we had just passed, with one of his companions, who had pretended to steal his fowls, as Chinamen are apt to do: whereas they had really carried off nothing at all. In short, we, as well asour respected Wesleyan friend, felt ourselves completely "sold."
The only attempt at dishonesty practised upon our branch which I can recollect while at Majorca was one of fraud and not of force. We had just been placed in telegraphic communication with the other towns in the colony. The opening of the telegraph was celebrated, as usual, by the Town Council "shouting" champagne. Some time before, a working-man, who had some money deposited with us, called in a fluster to say his receipts had been stolen. This was noted. Now came a telegram from Ballarat, saying that a receipt of our branch had been presented for payment, and asking if it was correct. We answered sharp, ordering the man to be detained. He was accordingly taken into custody, handed over to the police, and remanded to Newstead, where the receipt had been stolen. Newstead is a long way from Majorca, but our manager drove over with a pair of horses to give his evidence. It turned out that our customer's coat, containing the receipt, had been stolen while he was at his work. The thief was identified as having been seen hanging about the place; and the result was that he was committed, tried, and duly convicted. So you see that we are pretty smart out here, and not a long way behind the old country after all.
Visit to Ballarat—The Journey by Coach—Ballarat founded on Gold—Description of the Town—Ballarat "Corner"—The Speculative Cobbler—Fire Brigades—Return Journey—Crab-holes—The Talbot Ball—The Talbot Fête—The Avoca Races—Sunrise in the Bush.
One of the most interesting visits to places that I made while staying at Majorca was to Ballarat, the mining capital of the colony, sometimes called here the Victorian Manchester. The time of my visit was not the most propitious, for it was shortly after a heavy fall of rain, which had left the roads in a very bad state. But I will describe my journey.
Three of us hired a one-horse buggy to take us on to Clunes, which lay in our way. The load was rather too much for the horse, but we took turn and turn about at walking, and made it as light for the animal as possible. At Clunes I parted with my companions, who determined to take the buggy on to Ballarat. I thought it preferable to wait for the afternoon coach; and after being hospitably entertained at dinner by the manager of our Branch Bank at Clunes, I took my place in the coach for Ballarat.
We had not gone more than about a mile when the metalled road ended, and the Slough of Despond began,—the road so called, though it was little more than a deep mud-track, winding up a steepish ascent. All the passengers got out and walked up the hill. In the distance we saw a buggy in difficulties. I had already apprehended the fate of my mates who had gone on before me, and avoided sharing it by taking my place in the coach. But we were in little better straits ourselves. When we got up to the buggy, we found it fairly stuck in the mud, in one of the worst parts of the road, with a trace broken. I got under the rails of the paddock in which the coach passengers were walking—for it was impossible to walk in the road—and crossed over to where my former mates were stuck. They were out in the deep mud, almost knee-deep, trying to mend the broken trace. Altogether they looked in a very sorry plight.
At the top of the hill we again mounted the coach, and got on very well for about three miles, until we came to another very bad piece of road. Here we diverged from it altogether, and proceeded into an adjoining field, so as to drive alongside the road, and join it a little further on. The ground looked to me very soft, and so it was. For we had not gone far when the coach gave a plunge, and the wheels sank axle-deep in a crab-hole. All hands had now to set to work to help the coach out of the mud; while the driver urged his horses with cries and cracks of his long whip. But it was of no use. The two wheelerswere fairly exhausted, and their struggling only sent them deeper into the mud. The horses were then unharnessed, and the three strongest were yoked in a line, so as to give the foremost of them a better foot-hold. But it was still of no use. It was not until the mud round the wheels had been all dug out, and the passengers lifted the hind wheels and the coach bodily up, that the horses were at last able to extricate the vehicle. By this time we were all in a sad state of dirt and wet, for the rain had begun to fall quite steadily.
Shortly after, we reached the half-way house and changed horses. We now rattled along at a pretty good pace. But every now and then the driver would shout, "Look out inside!" and there would be a sudden roll, followed by a jerk and pitch combined, and you would be thrown over upon your opposite neighbour, or he upon you. At last, after a rather uncomfortable journey, we reached the outskirts of a large town, and in a few minutes more we found ourselves safely jolted into Ballarat.
I am not at all up in the statistics of the colony, and cannot tell the population or the number of inhabited houses in Ballarat.[13]But it is an immense place, second in importance in the colony only to Melbourne. Big though it be, like most of these up-country towns, Ballarat originated in a rush. It was only in September, 1851, that a blacksmith at Buningong,named Hiscocks, who had long been searching for gold, traced a mountain-torrent back into the hills towards the north, and came upon the rich lode which soon became known as the "Ballarat Diggings." When the rumour of the discovery got abroad, there was a great rush of people to the place, accompanied by the usual disorders; but they gradually settled down, and Ballarat was founded. The whole soil of the place was found to contain more or less gold. It was gathered in the ranges, on the flats, in the water-courses, and especially in the small veins of blue clay, lying almost above the so-called "pipeclay." The gold was to all appearance quite pure, and was found in rolled or water-course irregular lumps of various sizes, from a quarter or half an ounce in weight, sometimes incorporated with round pebbles of quartz, which appeared to have formed the original matrix.
The digging was at first for the most part alluvial, but when skilled miners arrived from England, operations were begun on a much larger scale, until now it is conducted upon a regular system, by means of costly machinery and highly-organised labour. To give an idea of the extensive character of the operations, I may mention that one company, the Band of Hope, has erected machinery of the value of 70,000l.The main shaft, from which the various workings branch out, is 420 feet deep; and 350 men are employed in and about the mine. It may also be mentioned that the deeper the workings have gone, the richer has been the yield of gold. This one company has, in a comparativelyshort time, raised gold worth over half a million sterling; the quantity produced by the Ballarat mines, since the discovery of gold in September, 1851, to the end of 1866, having been worth about one hundred and thirty millions sterling.
The morning after my arrival in Ballarat I proceeded to survey the town, I was certainly surprised at the fine streets, the large buildings, and the number of people walking along the broad pathways. Perhaps my surprise was magnified by the circumstance that nearly fifteen months had passed since I had been in a large town; and, after Majorca, Ballarat seemed to me like a capital. After wandering about the streets for half an hour, I looked into the Court-house, where an uninteresting case of drunkenness was being heard. I next went into the adjoining large building, which I found to be the Public Library. The commodious reading-room was amply supplied with books, magazines, and newspapers; and here I amused myself for an hour in reading a new book. Over the mantel-piece of the large room hangs an oil painting of Prince Alfred, representing him and his "mates" after the visit they had made to one of the Ballarat mines. This provision of excellent reading-rooms—free and open to all—seems to me an admirable feature of the Victorian towns. They are the best sort of supplement to the common day-schools; and furnish a salutary refuge for all sober-minded men, from the temptations of the grog-shops. But besides the Public Library, there is also the Mechanics' Institute, in Sturt Street;a fine building, provided also with a large library, and all the latest English newspapers, free to strangers.
The features of the town that most struck me in the course of the day were these. First, Sturt Street: a fine, broad street, at least three chains wide. On each side are large handsome shops, and along the middle of the road runs a broad strip of garden, with large trees and well-kept beds of flowers. Sturt Street is on an incline; and at the top of it runs Ledyard Street, at right angles, also a fine broad street. It contains the principal banks, of which I counted nine, all handsome stone buildings, the London Chartered, built on a foundation of blue-stone, being perhaps the finest of them in an architectural point of view. Close to it is the famous "Corner." What the Bourse is in Paris, Wall Street in New York, and the Exchange in London—that is the "Corner" at Ballarat. Under the verandah of the Unicorn Hotel, and close to the Exchange Buildings, there is a continual swarm of speculators, managers of companies, and mining men, standing about in groups, very like so many circles of betting-men on a race-course. Here all the mining swindles originate. Specimens of gold-bearing quartz are shown, shares are bought and sold, new schemes are ventilated, and old ones revived. Many fortunes have been lost and won on that bit of pavement.
One man is reckoned as good as another in Ballarat. Even the cad of a baker's boy has the chance of making "a pile," while the swell broker, who dabbles in mines and reefs, may be beggared in a few days. As one ofthe many instances of men growing suddenly rich by speculation here, I may mention the following. A short time since, a cobbler at Ballarat had a present made to him of twenty scrip in a company that was looking so bad that the shares had become unsaleable. The cobbler knew nothing of the mine, but he held the scrip. Not only so, but he bought more at a shilling or two apiece, and he went on accumulating them, until at the end of the year he had scraped together some two or three hundred. At length he heard that gold had been struck. He went to a bank, deposited his scrip certificates, and raised upon them all the money he could borrow. He bought more shares. They trebled in value. He held on. They trebled again. At last, when the gold was being got almost by the bucket, and a great mania for the shares had set in, the cobbler sold out at 250l.a share, and found himself a rich man. The mine was, I think, the Sir William Don, one of the most successful in Ballarat, now yielding a dividend of about 2l.per share per month, or a return of about 500 per cent. on the paid-up capital.
But to return to my description of Ballarat. The town lies in a valley between two slopes, spreading up on both sides and over the summits. Each summit is surmounted by a lofty tower, built by the Eastern and Western Fire Brigades. These towers command a view of the whole place, and are continually occupied by watchmen, who immediately give the alarm on the outbreak of fire. The people here say that the Ballarat Fire Brigade is the smartest in the southernhemisphere; though the engines are all manned by volunteers. And a fire must be a serious matter in Ballarat, where so many of the buildings—stores as well as dwellings—are built entirely of wood. Many of the streets are even paved with wood.
In the afternoon I ascended the western hill, from which I obtained a fine bird's-eye view of the town. The large, broad streets, at right angles to each other, looked well laid out, neat, and clean looking. What seemed strangest of all was the lazy puffing of the engines over the claims, throwing out their white jets of steam. But for the width of the streets, and the cleanness of the place, one might almost have taken Ballarat for a manufacturing town in Yorkshire, though they have no flower gardens along the middle of their streets!
In the evening I went to the opera—for Ballarat has an opera! The piece was 'Faust,' and was performed by Lyster and Smith's company from Melbourne. The performers did their best, but I cannot say they are very strong in opera yet at the Antipodes.
After thoroughly doing Ballarat, I set out on my return to Majorca. There was the same jolting as before, but this time the coach did not stick in the mud. On reaching Clunes, I resolved to walk straight to Majorca across the plain, instead of going the roundabout way by the road. But the straightest route is not always the shortest, as my experience on this occasion proved. I had scarcely got fairly into the plain before I found myself in the midst of a successionof crab-holes. These are irregular depressions, about a yard or so apart, formed by the washing up of the soil by eddies during floods, and now the holes were all full of water. It was a difficult and tedious process to work one's way through amongst them, for they seemed to dovetail into one another, and often I had to make a considerable détour to get round the worst of them. This crab-holey ground continued for about four miles, after which I struck into the bush, making for the ranges, and keeping Mount Greenock and Mount Glasgow before me as landmarks. Not being a good bushman, I suspect I went several miles out of my way. However, by dint of steady walking, I contrived to do the sixteen miles in about four hours; but if I have ever occasion to walk from Clunes again, I will take care to take the roundabout road, and not to make the journeyen zigzaground crab-holes and through the bush.
Among the other places about here that I have visited were Talbot, about seven miles distant, and Avoca, about twenty. One of the occasions of my going to Talbot was to attend a ball given there, and another to attend a great fête for the benefit of the Amherst Hospital. Talbot gives its name to the county, though by no means the largest town in it. The town is very neat and tidy, and contains some good stone and brick buildings. It consists of one principal street, with several little offshoots.
The ball was very like a ball at home, though a little more mixed. The young ladies were some ofthem very pretty, and nicely dressed—some in dresses "direct from London"—while a few of the elder ladies were gorgeous but incongruous. One old lady, in a juvenile dress, wore an enormous gold brooch, large enough to contain the portraits of several families. I was astonished to learn the great distances that some of the ladies and gentlemen had come to be present at the ball. Some had driven through the bush twenty and even thirty miles; but distance is thought nothing of here, especially when there is a chance of "meeting company." The ball was given in the Odd Fellows' Hall, a large square room. One end of it was partitioned off as a supper-room, and on the partition was sewn up in large letters this couplet from 'Childe Harold:'—
"No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet,To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."
And, to speak the truth, the young ladies, as well as the young gentlemen present, did ample justice to the text. The dancing continued until daybreak, and we drove back to Majorca as the sun was rising; but remember it was summer time, in November, when the sun rises very early.
One little event arose out of this ball which may serve to illustrate the comparative freeness of up-country manners. A nice young lady, with whom I danced, asked me if I would not like to be very great friends with her. "Oh, yes! certainly." And great friends we became at once. Perhaps she took pity on the stranger boy so far from home. She asked ifI was fond of riding. "Very fond." "Then I will come over to Majorca, and call upon you, and we shall have a ride in the bush together." And I was to be sure and have some sweets ready for her, as she was very fond of them. I took this to be merely a little ball-room chaff; but judge my surprise when, next afternoon, the young lady rode up to the bank door and called on me to fulfil my promise,—which I did, lollipops and all.
A great event in Talbot is the Annual Fête, held on the Prince of Wales's birthday, which is observed as a public holiday in Victoria. The fête this year was held in aid of the funds of the Amherst Hospital, a valuable local institution. At this affair the whole population of the neighbourhood turned out. It began at midday with a grand procession through the town. Let me endeavour to give you an idea of the pageant. First came the well-mounted Clunes Lancers, in their light blue and white uniforms, 150 strong, blue and white pennons fluttering from their long lances. Then came lines of members of Friendly Societies, in gay scarfs, accompanied by banners. Then a good band of music. The Talbot 42nd Sectional Lancers next turn the corner of the street, gorgeous in scarlet and white. Then comes something comic—a Welsh lady and gentleman riding a pony barebacked. These are followed by an Irish couple, also mounted. Then comes a Highlandman, in a vehicle such as the Highlands never saw, discoursing music from his bagpipes. A large open boat follows, mounted on a car;it is filled with sailor-boys in blue and white. This boat is a model of the 'Cerberus,' the turret-ship that Mr. Reed is building in England for the defence of Port Phillip. A genuine old salt, with long white hair, plays the part of admiral. In cocked hat, blue admiral's coat, and white ducks, he waves his sword frantically, and gives the word of command to repel boarders; all the while two little cannons in the model are being constantly fired, reloaded, and fired again. This noisy exhibition having passed, a trophy representing the Australian chase appears. A huntsman, dressed in green, blowing his horn, stands amidst some bushes, holding a handsome leash of hounds; dead kangaroos and other Australian animals lie around him. Then follow more lancers. After this comes a huge car, two stories high, with all sorts of odd characters in it: a clown, with his "Here we are again!" playing pranks on two sedate-looking Chinamen; a little fairy boy or girl, flirting with a magician; dragons snapping; strange birds screeching; three bears, one playing a violin, but the tune it plays is drowned by the hubbub of noise and bands. A lady, of the time of Elizabeth, gorgeous in ruffles, follows on horseback. Then knights in armour, one of them with a stuffed 'possum snarling on the top of his helmet. Another band. Then the solemn brethren of the Order of Druids, in white gowns, bald heads, and grey beards. A company of sweeps comes next, attended by an active Jack-in-the-Green. Now an Indian doctor appears, smoking a long pipe in his chariot, drawn bya Brahmin bull. Another band, and then the rear is brought up by more cavalry. There were seven bands—good ones, too—in the procession, which took full twenty minutes to pass the hotel, on the balcony of which I stood. I have seen the London Lord Mayor's Show, but must confess the Talbot procession beats it hollow.
After the procession, we all adjourned to the race-course, where the collection for the hospital was to be made. The admission was eighteen-pence; a good sum for working people to give, yet everybody was there. There was an amateur Richardson's show, a magician's tent, Cheap John's merry-go-rounds, and all sorts of amusements to be had by paying for them; and, above all, there was the bazaar, presided over by the ladies of Talbot, who succeeded in selling a large quantity of useless things at the usual exorbitant prices. There was also a large dancing-platform roofed with canvas, which was very well frequented. Most popular of all, perhaps, were the refreshment-bars, where the publicans gave the liquor free, but charged the usual prices for the good of the hospital fund; and the teetotallers, not to be outdone, managed a very comfortable tea-room. In short, all the usual expedients for raising money were cleverly resorted to, and the result was that between 1400l.and 1500l.was added to the funds of the hospital, about 500l.of which was taken at the ladies' bazaar. Altogether, there were not less than 5000 people on the ground, though I believe the newspapers gave a considerably higher number.
The Avoca races were not very different from races in England. Every town hereabouts has its races, even Majorca. The Carrisbrook race-course, about four miles from our town, is considered second to none in the colony. Avoca, however, is a bigger place, and the races there draw a much larger crowd. We drove the twenty miles thither by road and bush-track. The ground was perfectly dry, for there had been no rain for some time; and, as the wind was in our faces, it drove the clouds of dust behind us. I found the town itself large and well-built. What particularly struck me was the enormous width of the main street,—at least three chains wide. The houses on either side of the road were so remote from each other that they might have belonged to different townships. I was told that the reason of this great width of street was, that the Government had reserved this broad space of ground, the main street of Avoca forming part of the road to Adelaide, which may at some future time become a great and crowded highway. One of the finest buildings in the town is a handsome hotel, built of stone and brick, provided with a ball-room, billiard-rooms, and such like. It is altogether the finest up-country place of the kind that I have seen. Here we put up, and join the crowd of loungers under the verandah. Young swells got up in high summer costume—cutaway coats, white hats, and blue net veils—just as at Epsom on the Derby Day. There are also others, heavy-looking colonials, who have come out evidently to make a day of it, and are already freely imbibingcold brandy and water. Traps and cars are passing up and down the street, in quest of passengers for the race-course, about two miles from the town.
There we find the same sort of entertainments provided for the public as on like occasions at home. The course is about a mile and a half in extent, with the ground well cleared. There is the saddling paddock, in which the "knowing ones" take great interest; and there are the usual booths for the sale of refreshments, and especially of drink. In front of the Grand Stand the betting-men from Melbourne are pointed out to me,—a sharp, rough-looking set they are, dressed in Tweed suits and flash ties, wearing diamond rings. One of them, a blear-eyed, tall, strong man, with bushy brown whiskers, bawling out his "two to one" on such and such a horse—an ugly-looking customer—was described to me as "thesecondbiggest blackguard in Victoria; give him a wide berth." Another of the betting-men was pointed out to me as having been a guard on the South-Eastern Railway some ten years ago. I need not describe the races: they were like most others. There were flat races and hurdle races. Six horses ran for the District Plate. Four of them came in to the winning-post, running neck and neck. The race was won by only a head.
My friend remained on the course until it was too late to return to Majorca that night. As the moon did not rise until towards morning, we were under the necessity of waiting until then, otherwise we might get benighted in the bush. We tried to find a bed inthe hotel, but in vain. All the beds and sofas in Avoca were occupied. Even the billiard tables were engaged for the night.
We set out on our return journey to Majorca just as the moon was rising. She was only in her second quarter, and did not yet give light enough to enable us to see the road very clearly, so that we went very cautiously at first. While my companion drove, I snatched the opportunity for a sleep. I nodded and dozed from time to time, wakening up suddenly to find a large bright star blinking before my eyes. The star sank lower and lower towards the horizon. The green-gold rays of the morning sun rose up to meet it. The star hovered between the pale growing light below and the dark blue sky above. Then it melted away in the glow of sunrise. The half-moon still cast our shadow on the dusty track. But not for long. The zone of yellow light in the east grows rapidly larger and brighter. The brilliant edge of the god of day tips the horizon; a burst of light follows; and now the morning sun, day's harbinger, "comes dancing up the east." The summits of the trees far away in the silent bush are bathed in gold. The near trees, that looked so weird-like in the moon's half light, are now decked in green. The chill of the night has departed. It is already broad day. By the time we reach Amherst, eight miles from Majorca, we are glad to shade ourselves from the blazing sun. In an hour more we reach our destination, and after breakfast and a bath, are ready to begin the day's duties.
FOOTNOTES:[13]The population, in 1857, was 4971; in 1861, 21,104. It is now nearly 50,000.
[13]The population, in 1857, was 4971; in 1861, 21,104. It is now nearly 50,000.
[13]The population, in 1857, was 4971; in 1861, 21,104. It is now nearly 50,000.
Victorian Life English—Arrival of the Home Mail—News of the Franco-German War—The German Settlers in Majorca—The single Frenchman—Majorcan public Teas—The Church—The Ranters—The Teetotallers—The Common School—The Roman Catholics—Common School Fête and Entertainment—The Mechanics' Institute—Funeral of the Town Clerk—Departure from Majorca—The Colony of Victoria.
The reader will observe, from what I have above written, that life in Victoria is very much like life in England. There are the same people, the same callings, the same pleasures and pursuits, and, as some would say, the same follies and vices. There are the same religious bodies, the same political movements, the same social agencies—Teetotal Societies, Mechanics' Institutes, Friendly Societies, and such like. Indeed, Victoria is only another England, with a difference, at the Antipodes. The character, the habits of life, and tone of thought of the people, are essentially English.
You have only to see the interest with which the arrival of every mail from England is watched, to recognise the strength of the tie that continues to unite the people of the colony with those of the Old Country. A flag is hoisted over the Melbourne Post Office toannounce its coming, and soon the news is flashed by telegraph all over the colony. Every local post-office is eagerly besieged by the expecters of letters and newspapers. Speaking for myself, my most exciting day in the month was that on which my home letters arrived; and I wrote at intervals all through the month against the departure of the outgoing mail.
The excitement throughout the colony became intense when the news arrived from England of the defeat of the French before Metz. The first news came by the 'Point de Galle,' and then, six days later, intelligence was receivedviâSan Francisco, of the disaster at Sedan. Crowds besieged the office of the local paper at Talbot when the mail was telegraphed; and the doors had to be shut to keep them out until the telegram could be set up in type and struck off. At first the news was not believed, it was so extraordinary and unexpected; but the Germans in the town accepted it at once as true, and began their rejoicings forthwith. The Irish at Talbot were also very much excited, and wished to have a fight, but they did not exactly know with whom.
There are considerable numbers of Germans settled throughout the colony, and they are a very useful and industrious class of settlers. They are for the most part sober and hard-working men. I must also add that they minister in no small degree to the public amusement. At Maryborough they give very good concerts. Here, the only band in the town is furnished by the German settlers, and being a very good one, itis in request on all public occasions. The greater number of the Germans live at MacCullum's Creek, about a mile distant, where they have recently opened a Verein or Club, celebrating the event, as usual, by a dance. It was a very gay affair. The frantic Deutschers and their Fraus danced like mad things—Tyrolese waltzes and old-fashioned quadrilles. There was a great deal of singing in praise of Vaterland and Freundschaft, with no end of "Hochs!" They kept it up, I was told, until broad daylight, dispersing about eight o'clock in the morning.
The Germans also give an annual picnic, which is a great event in the place. There is a procession in the morning, headed by their band and the German tri-colour flag. In the afternoon there are sports; and in the evening continuous dancing in a large marquee. One of the chief sports of the afternoon is "Shooting at the Eagle" with a cross-bow, and trying to knock off the crown or sceptre from the effigy of a bird, crowned with an eagle and holding a sceptre, stuck up on the top of a high pole. The crown or the sceptre represents a high prize, and each feather struck off represents a prize of some value or other.
The French have only one representative in the town. As I soon got to know everybody in the place, dropping in upon them in their houses, and chatting with them about the last news from home, I also made the acquaintance of the Frenchman. He had last come from Buenos Ayres, accompanied by Madame. Of course the news about the defeat of the French army was allfalse—merely a vilecanard. We shall soon know all. I confess I like this French couple very much. Their little house is always so trim and neat. Fresh-plucked flowers are usually set out on the mantel-piece, on the arrangement and decoration of which Madame evidently prides herself. Good taste is so cheap and so pleasant a thing, that I wish it were possible for these French people to inoculate their neighbours with a little of it. But rough plenty seems to be sufficient for the Anglo-Saxon.
I must tell you of a few more of the doings of the place, to show how very much life here resembles life in England. The place is of course newer, the aggregation of society is more recent, life is more rough and ready, more free and easy, and that is nearly all the difference. The people have brought with them from the old country their habits of industry, their taste for holidays, their religious spirit, their desire for education, their love of home life.
Public Teas are an institution in Majorca, as at home. There being but little provision for the maintenance of religious worship, there is a constant whipping up for money; and tea-meetings are usually resorted to for the purpose of stimulating the flagging energies of the people. Speakers from a distance are advertised, provisions and hot water are provided in abundance; and after a gorge of tea and buns, speeches are fired off, and the hat goes round.
We had a great disappointment on one occasion, when the Archdeacon of Castlemaine was advertised topreach a sermon in aid of our church fund, and preside at the subsequent tea-meeting. Posters were stuck up; great preparatory arrangements were made; but the Archdeacon did not come. Some hitch must have occurred. But we had our tea nevertheless.
The Ranters also are great at tea-meetings, but still greater at revival meetings. Matthew Burnett, "the great Yorkshire evangelist," came to our town to rouse us from our apathy, and he certainly contrived to work up many people, especially women, to a high pitch of excitement. The meetings being held in the evenings, and continued far into the nights, the howling, shouting, and groaning were by no means agreeable noises to such sinners in their immediate neighbourhood as slept lightly,—of whom I was one.
Burnett was at the same time the great star of the Teetotallers, who held him in much esteem. He was a man of a rough sort of eloquence, probably the best suited for the sort of people whom he came to address and sought to reclaim; for fine tools are useless for doing rough work. Another very good speaker at their meetings was known as Yankee Bill, whose homely appeals were often very striking, and even affecting in a degree. At intervals they sang hymns, and sang them very well. They thus cultivated some taste for music. They also kept people for the time being out of their favourite "publics." Like many teetotallers, however, they were very intolerant of non-teetotallers. Some even went so far as to say that one must be a teetotaller to get to heaven. Yet, notwithstanding alltheir exaggerations, the teetotallers do much good; and their rough appeals often penetrate hearts and heads that would be impervious to gentler and finer influences.
Let me not forget to mention the public entertainments got up for the benefit of the common school of the town. The existing schools being found too small for the large number of children who attend, it was proposed to erect another wing for the purposes of an infant school. With this object, active efforts were made to raise subscriptions; the understanding being that the Government gives a pound for every pound collected in the district.
The difficulties in managing these common schools seem to be considerable, where members of different religious persuasions sit on the Managing Committee. At Majorca the principal difficulty seemed to be with the Roman Catholics; and it was said that their priest had threatened to refuse absolution to such parents as allowed their children to attend the common school. Whatever truth there might be in this story, it is certain that about thirty-six childrenwerewithdrawn, and instead of continuing to receive the elements of a good education, they were entrusted to the care of an old man quite incompetent for the office, but who was of the right faith.
I was enlisted as a collector for the school fund, and went round soliciting subscriptions; but I found it up-hill work. My district lay in the suburbs, and I was by no means successful. A good many of thoseI called upon were Ranters; and I suspect that the last sensation preacher had carried off what otherwise might have fallen to my share. I was tolerably successful with the diggers working at their claims. At least they always gave me a civil answer. One of them said, "Well, if our washing turns out well on Saturday, you shall have five shillings." And the washing must have turned out well, for on Saturday evening the digger honestly brought me the sum he had named.
Further to help the fund, a fête was held in the open air, and an entertainment was given by amateurs in the Prince of Wales's Theatre,—for our little town also boasts of its theatre. The fête was held on Easter Monday, which was kept as a holiday; and it commenced with a grand procession of Odd Fellows, Foresters, German Verein, Rechabites, and other clubs, all in their Sunday clothes, and many of them wearing very gorgeous scarfs. The German band headed the procession, which proceeded towards the paddock at MacCullum's Creek used on such festive occasions. There all the contrivances usually adopted for extracting money from the pockets of the visitors were in full operation. There was a bazaar, in which all manner of useless things were offered for sale; together with raffles, bowls, croquet, dancing, shooting at the eagle, tilting at the ring, and all sorts of sports; a small sum being paid on entry. I took up with a forlorn Aunt Sally, standing idle without customers, and by dint of sedulous efforts, contrived togather about a pound in an hour and a half. All did their best. And thus a pleasant day was spent, and a good round sum of money was collected for the fund.
The grand miscellaneous entertainment was also a complete success. The theatre was filled with a highly-respectable audience, including many gaily-dressed ladies, and all the belles of Majorca and the neighbourhood. Indeed I wondered where they could all come from. The performances excited the greater interest, as the whole of them were by amateurs, well known in the place. The songs went off well; and several of them were encored. After the concert, the seats were cleared away, and the entertainment wound up with the usual dance. And thus did we each endeavour to do our share of pleasant labour for the benefit of the common school.
The reading-room of the Mechanics' Institute is always a source of entertainment when nothing else offers. The room is small but convenient, and it contains a fair collection of books. The Telegraph Office, the Post Office, Council Chamber, and Mechanics' Institute, all occupy one building,—not a very extensive one,—being only a one-storied wooden erection. One of the chief attractions of the reading-room is a collection of Colonial papers, with 'Punch,' 'The Illustrated News,' and the 'Irish Nation.' On Saturday nights, when the diggers wash up and come into town, the room is always well filled with readers. The members of the Committee are also very activein getting up entertainments and popular readings; and, in short, the Mechanics' Institute may be regarded as one of the most civilising institutions in the place.
But my time in Majorca was drawing to an end. One of the last public events in which I took part was attending the funeral of our town clerk, the first funeral I have ever had occasion to be present at. A long procession followed his remains to the cemetery. Almost all the men in the township attended, for the deceased was highly respected. The service was very solemn, held under the bright, clear, blue Australian sky. Poor old man! I knew him well. I had seen him so short a time ago in the hospital, where, three hours before he died, he gave me his blessing. He was then lying flushed, and in great pain. All that is over now. "Dust to dust, and ashes to ashes." The earth sounded as it fell upon his coffin; and now the good man sleeps in peace, leaving a blessed memory behind him.
I was now under orders for home! My health was completely re-established. I might have remained, and perhaps succeeded in the colony. As it was, I carried with me the best wishes of my employers. But I had no desire to pursue the career of bank-clerk further. I was learning but little, and had my own proper business to pursue. So I made arrangements for leaving Australia. Enough money had been remitted me from England, to enable me to return direct by first-class ship, leaving me free to choosemy own route. As I might never have another opportunity of seeing that great new country the United States of America, the question occurred, whether I might not be able to proceed up the Pacific to San Francisco,viâHonolulu, and cross America by the Atlantic and Pacific Railway. On inquiry, I found it would be practicable, but not by first-class. So I resolved to rough it a little, and proceed by that route second class, for which purpose my funds would be sufficient. I accordingly took my final leave of Majorca early in December—just as summer was reaching its height; and after spending three more pleasant weeks with my hospitable and kind friends in Melbourne, took my passage in the steamer for Sydney, and set sail the day after Christmas.
On looking over what I have above written about my life in Victoria, I feel how utterly inadequate it is to give the reader an idea of the country as a whole. All that I have done has merely been to write down my first impressions, unpremeditatedly and faithfully, of what I saw, and what I felt and did while there. Such a short residence in the colony, and such a limited experience as mine was, could not have enabled me—no matter what my faculty of observation, which is but moderate—to convey any adequate idea of the magnitude of the colony or its resources. To pretend to write an account of Victoria and Victorian life from the little I saw, were as absurd as it would be for a native-born Victorian, sixteen years old, to come overto England, live two years in a small country town, and then write a book of his travels, headed "England." And yet this is the way in which the Victorians complain, and with justice, that they are treated by English writers. Some eminent man arrives in the colony, spends a few weeks in it, perhaps rushes through it by railway, and hastens home to publish some contemptuous account of the people whom he does not really know, or some hasty if not fallacious description of the country which he has not really seen. I am sure that, however crude my description may be, Victorians will not be offended with what I have said of themselves and their noble colony; for, small though the sphere of my observation was, they will see that I have written merely to the extent of my knowledge, and have related, as faithfully as I was able, the circumstances that came within the range of my own admittedly limited, but actual experience of colonial life.
Sydney, Port Jackson.Sydney, Port Jackson.
Last Christmas in Australia—Start by Steamer for Sydney—The 'Great Britain'—Cheap Trips to Queenscliffe—Rough Weather at Sea—Mr. and Mrs. C. Mathews—Botany Bay—Outer South Head—Port Jackson—Sydney Cove—Description of Sydney—Government House and Domain—Great Future Empire of the South.
I spent my last Australian Christmas with my kind entertainers in Melbourne. Christmas scarcely looks like Christmas with the thermometer at 90° in the shade. But there is the same roast beef and plum-pudding nevertheless, reminding one of home. Theimmense garnishing of strawberries, however, now in season—though extremely agreeable—reminds us that Christmas at the Antipodes must necessarily differ in many respects from Christmas in England.
The morning after Christmas Day saw me on board the steamer 'Raugatira,' advertised to start for Sydney at eleven. Casting off from our moorings at the Sandridge pier, the ship got gradually under weigh; and, waving my last adieu to friends on shore, I was again at sea.
We steamed close alongside the 'Great Britain'—which has for some time been the crack ship between Australia and England. She had just arrived from Liverpool with a great freight of goods and passengers, and was lying at her moorings—a splendid ship. As we steamed out into Hobson's Bay, Melbourne rose up across the flats, and loomed large in the distance. All the summits seemed covered with houses—the towers of the fine Roman Catholic Cathedral, standing on the top of a hill to the right, being the last building to be seen distinctly from the bay.
In about two hours we were at Queenscliffe, inside the Heads—at present the fashionable watering place of Melbourne. Several excursion steamers had preceded us, taking down great numbers of passengers, to enjoy Boxing Day by the sea-side. The place looked very pretty indeed from our ship's deck. Some of the passengers, who had taken places for Sydney, were landed here, fearing lest the sea should be found too rough outside the Heads.
There had been very little wind when we left Sandridge, and the waters of Port Phillip were comparatively smooth. But as we proceeded, the wind began to rise, and our weather-wise friends feared lest they should have to encounter a gale outside. We were now in sight of the white line of breakers running across the Heads. There was still a short distance of smooth water before us; but that was soon passed; and then our ship dashed her prow into the waves and had to fight her way as for very life against the heavy sea that rolled in through Bass's Straits from the South Pacific.
The only distinguished passengers on board are Mr. and Mrs. Charles Mathews, who have been "starring" it in Victoria to some purpose. A few nights ago, Mr. Mathews took his leave in a characteristic speech, partly humorous and partly serious; but the enthusiastic audience laughed and cheered him all the way through; and it was rather comic to read the newspaper report of next morning, and to find that the actor's passages of the softest pathos had been received with "roars of laughter."
Mr. Mathews seems to be one of the most perennially juvenile of men. When he came on board at Sandridge, he looked as frisky and larky as a boy. He skipped up and down the deck, and took an interest in everything. This lasted so long as the water was smooth. When he came in sight of the broken water at the Heads, I fancy his spirit barometer went down a little. But when the ship began to put her nose intothe waves freely, a total change seemed to pass over him. I very soon saw his retreating skirts. For the next three days—three long, rough, wave-tossing days—very little was seen of him, and when he at length did make his appearance on deck, alas! he seemed no longer the brisk and juvenile passenger that had come on board at Sandridge only a few days before.
Indeed, it was a very rough and "dirty" passage. The passengers were mostly prostrate during the whole of the voyage. The sea was rolling in from the east in great billows, which our little boat breasted gallantly; but it was tossed about like a cork, inclining at all sorts of angles by turns. It was not much that I could see of the coast, though at some places it is bold, at others beautiful. We passed very near to it at Ram Head and Cape Howe—a grand promontory forming the south-west point of Australia.
On the third day from Melbourne, about daybreak, I found we were steaming close along shore, under dark brown cliffs, not very high, topped with verdure. The wind had gone down, but the boat was pitching in the heavy sea as much as ever. The waves were breaking with fury and noise along the beach under the cliffs. At 9a.m.we passed Botany Bay—the first part of New South Wales sighted by Captain Cook just a hundred years ago. It was here that he first landed, and erected a mound of stones and a flag to commemorate the event.[14]Banks and Solander, who werewith him, found the land covered with new and beautiful flowers, and hence the name which was given it, of "Botany Bay"—afterwards a name of terror, associated only with crime and convict life.
We steamed across the entrance to the bay, until we were close under the cliffs of the outer South Head, guarding the entrance to Port Jackson. The white Macquarie lighthouse on the summit of the Head is seen plainly at a great distance. Steaming on, we were soon under the inner South Head, and at the entrance to the famous harbour, said to be the finest in the world.
The opening into Port Jackson is comparatively narrow,—so much so, that when Captain Cook first sailed past it, he considered it to be merely a boat entrance, and did not examine it. While he was at breakfast, the look-out man at the mast-head—a man named Jackson—reported that he saw the entrance to what seemed a good anchorage; and so the captain, half in derision, named it "Port Jackson." The Heads seemed to me only about four hundred feet apart from each other, the North Head somewhat overlapping the South. The rocks appear to have broken off abruptly, and stand up perpendicularly over against each other, about three hundred feet high, leaving a chasm orpassage between them which forms the entrance to Port Jackson. When the Pacific rolls in full force against the Heads, the waves break with great violence on the cliffs, and the spray is flung right over the lighthouse on the South Head. Now that the sea has gone somewhat down, the waves are not so furious, and yet the dash of the spray half-way up the perpendicular cliffs is a grand sight.
Once inside the Heads, the water becomes almost perfectly calm; the scenery suddenly changes; the cliffs subside into a prettily-wooded country, undulating and sloping gently to the water's edge. Immediately within the entrance, on the south side, is a pretty little village—the pilot station in Watson's Bay. After a few minutes' more steaming, the ship rounds a corner, the open sea is quite shut out from view, and neither Heads nor pilot station are to be seen.
My attention is next drawn to a charming view on the north shore—a delicious little inlet, beautifully wooded, and surrounded by a background of hills, rising gradually to their highest height behind the centre of the little bay. There, right in amongst the bright green trees, I observe a gem of a house, with a broad terrace in front, and steps leading down to the clear blue water. A few minutes more, and we have lost sight of the charming nook, having rounded the headland of the inlet—a rocky promontory covered with ferns and mosses.
But our attention is soon absorbed by other beauties of the scene. Before us lies a lovely island prettilywooded, with some three or four fine mansions and their green lawns sloping down to the water's edge; while on the left, the hills are constantly varying in aspect as we steam along. At length, some seven miles up Port Jackson, the spires and towers and buildings of Sydney come into sight; at first Wooloomooloo, and then in ten minutes more, on rounding another point, we find ourselves in Sydney Cove, alongside the wharf. Here we are in the midst of an amphitheatre of beauty,—a wooded island opposite covered with villas and cottages; with headlands, coves and bays, and beautiful undulations of lovely country as far as the eye can reach. Altogether, I think Port Jackson is one of the most charming pieces of water and landscape that I have ever seen.
After our three days tossing at sea, I was, however, glad to be on shore again; so, having seen my boxes safely deposited in the Californian baggage depôt, I proceeded into the town and secured apartments for the few days I was to remain in Sydney.
From what I have already said of the approach to the landing, it will be inferred that the natural situation of Sydney is very fine. It stands upon a ridge of sandstone rock, which runs down into the bay in numerous ridges or spines of land or rock, between which lie the natural harbours of the place; and these are so deep, that vessels of almost any burden may load and unload at the projecting wharves. Thus Sydney possesses a very large extent of deep water frontage, and its wharfage and warehouse accommodation is capable of enlargementto almost any extent. Of the natural harbours formed by the projecting spines of rock into the deep water, the most important are Wooloomooloo Bay, Farm Cove, Sydney Cove, and Darling Harbour.
From the waterside, the houses, ranged in streets, rise like so many terraces up to the crown of the ridges,—the main streets occupying the crests and flanks of two or three of the highest. One of these, George Street, is a remarkably fine street, about two miles long, containing many handsome buildings.
My first knowledge of Sydney was acquired in a stroll up George Street. We noticed the original old market-place, bearing the date of 1793; a quaint building, with queer old-fashioned domes, all shingle-roofed. A little further on, we came to a large building in course of erection—the new Town Hall, built of a yellowish sort of stone. Near it is the English Cathedral—a large and elegant structure. Further on, is the new Roman Catholic Cathedral,—the original cathedral in Hyde Park having been burnt down some time ago.
Altogether, Sydney has a much older look than Melbourne. It has grown up at longer intervals, and does not look so spic and span new. The streets are much narrower and more irregular—older-fashioned, and more English in appearance—occasioned, doubtless, by its slower growth and its more hilly situation. But it would also appear as if there were not the same go-ahead spirit in Sydney that so pre-eminently characterises her sister city. Instead of the splendidlybroad, well-paved, and well-watered streets of Melbourne, here they are narrow, ill-paved, and dirty. Such a thing as the miserable wooden hut which serves for a post-office would not be allowed to exist for a day at Melbourne. It is the original office, and has never been altered or improved since it was first put up. I must, however, acknowledge that a new post-office is in course of erection; but it shows the want of public spirit in the place that the old shanty should have been allowed to stand so long.
The railway terminus, at the end of George Street, is equally discreditable. It is, without exception, the shabbiest, dirtiest shed of the kind I have ever seen. They certainly need a little of the Victorian spirit in Sydney. The Melbourne people, with such a site for a city, would soon have made it one of the most beautiful places in the world. As it is, nothing can surpass its superb situation; the view over the harbour from some of the higher streets being unequalled,—the numerous ships lying still, as if asleep on the calm waters of the bay beneath, whilst the rocky promontories all round it, clothed with verdure, are dotted with the villas and country mansions of the Sydney merchants.
One of the busiest parts of Sydney is down by the quays, where a great deal of shipping business is carried on. There are dry docks, patent slips, and one floating dock; though floating docks are of minor importance here, where the depth of water along shore is so great, and the rise and fall of the tide is so small. Indeed, Sydney Harbour may be regarded as one immensefloating dock. The Australasian Steam Navigation Company have large ship-building and repairing premises at Pyrmont, which give employment to a large number of hands. Certainly, the commanding position of Sydney, and the fact of its being the chief port of a great agricultural and pastoral country in the interior, hold out the promise of great prosperity for it in the future.
Every visitor to Sydney of course makes a point of seeing the Government House and the Domain, for it is one of the principal sights of the place. The Government buildings and park occupy the double-headed promontory situated between Wooloomooloo Bay and Sydney Cove. The Government House is a handsome and spacious castellated building, in every way worthy of the colony; the views from some parts of the grounds being of almost unparalleled beauty. There are nearly four miles of drives in the park, through alternate cleared and wooded grounds,—sometimes opening upon cheerful views of the splendid harbour, then skirting the rocky shores, or retreating inland amidst shadowy groves and grassy dells. The grounds are open to the public, and the entrances being close upon the town and suburbs, this public park of Sydney is one that for convenience and beauty, perhaps no capital in the world surpasses.
The Botanical Gardens are situated in what is called the outer Domain. We enter the grounds under a long avenue of acacias and sycamores, growing so close together as to afford a complete shade from the noondayheat. At the end of the avenue, we came upon a splendid specimen of the Norfolk Island pine, said to be the largest and finest tree out of the island itself. After resting for a time under its delicious shade, we strolled on through other paths overhung with all sorts of flowering plants; then, passing through an opening in the wall, a glorious prospect of the bay suddenly spread out before us. The turf was green down to the water's edge, and interspersed with nicely-kept flower beds, with here and there a pretty clump of trees.